


A Minute Before Dawn

by moxmooneyes



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: A Minute Before Dawn, AMBD, Conquest, F/M, Fire Emblem Fates - Freeform, Invisible Kingdom, Kamui - Freeform, Nohr, Northern Citadel, Revelations, Vindam, Windham - Freeform, birthright
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-05-06 11:37:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 89,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5415371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moxmooneyes/pseuds/moxmooneyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Princess Teresa of Nohr continues to struggle with tomes and commences preparation for Camilla's upcoming wedding - little did she know these events would catapult her into a treacherous journey of self-discovery, romance and sacrifice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crescent Bud

# ~ A Minute Before Dawn ~

# Blooming Moon Arc 

### Chapter 1: Crescent Bud

An aggravated sigh slipped from Teresa’s lips, disheartened yet again by the dying sparks of magic clinging to the exterior of her pale arm, golden circles and runes fading from existence in a fleeting breath. Her practice tome slammed shut, appearing to take on the longstanding frustration of her most recent magic arts tutor, a middle-aged woman with a taught figure and strict face, crisply dressed in the garbs of a Sorceress. 

As her annoyed instructor approached Teresa watched the golden ornaments and glistening feathered cloak sway in time with her proud steps, each one as confident as the last. If her wheaten hair had been longer it may have swept in time as well, instead the front locks clung to her golden headpiece, almost bird like in fashion, a bun perched atop her head. Bloated purple fabric, dotted with orbs of gold covered her arms, intermingling with the black down the rest of her form, the deepened colour made her pale skin appear paler than it should have, almost giving her a sickly appearance. Her heeled, golden feet came to an abrupt halt in front of her whilst her piercing blue eyes almost scowled down upon her, Teresa grimaced as the older woman permitted a despondent sigh from her thin lips. 

It was the same look that they had all worn before, the one that told her that they were done trying to develop her skills with magic, that she would be shuffled onto the next tutor and then perhaps the next. How long had this tutor lasted? What number was she up to now?

“We are done for now, my lady.” She was doing a better job keeping her composure than the last tutor, her gangly fingers reaching to take the practice tome from her tense hands. She let the leather bound book slide from her grasp, it felt cold and dead amongst the unusually warm morning air. 

"Yes?” Teresa encouraged, staring into Myra’s eyes, feeling her heart pick up a frantic beat, every fibre of her being praying that her next words would not connote or outright state her abandonment.

"But,” There it was, Teresa pursed her lip and briefly closed her eyes, still gripping onto hope. “I haven’t see any improvement in you whilst I have been your guide.” 

"I suppose that you’ll hand me over to the next tutor then, Myra?” Teresa bluntly replied, determined to assert herself, even if she was disheartened by her lack of progression. The sudden frustration and waves of discontent forced her tone to become frank and her body language defensive and tired, reluctantly anticipating the awkward process of informing father and discussing the recruitment of yet another tutor, if there were any left. 

"Yes, I think that, perhaps, you might do better under another teacher. My instructions don’t appear to have improved you in the slightest, my lady” Myra dropped her eye contact to the two tomes stacked in her hands, despite her proud demeanour she appeared to be crumbling under Teresa’s resolute gaze, possibly intimidated by her strong stare, the one she used to make others think that she was fine when really she was highly disappointed. If she had not been wearing this mask she would have been openly scowling with displeasure, scorning her authority figure for abandoning her like all her predecessors had.

"Thank you for taking your time with me.” Teresa sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers whilst she bobbed her head slightly, placing a hand on her hip. She was keen to get the usual formalities over with quickly and focus on the coming week, it promised to be a busy one, and she had much to attend to now that her training today was over. “If you speak with Gunter he’ll make sure that father is informed of your retirement from my services.” 

"Thank you, Princess. I pray that the next tutor might be more beneficial to you.” Myra stated, watching as Teresa nodded politely and turned around, striding across the small, darkened courtyard toward the highest spire, dotted witch glowing candlelight. A tall man with ashen hair, neatly tied and plaited back into a long ponytail briskly began approaching her, saucer of tea in one hand and a soft cloth draped around his other arm. His wispy hair tenderly clung to the sides of his face, framing it in a way that suited its gentle slope and rounded chin. He adorned his typical butler attire, a white blouse carrying the weight of his black and purple vest, it all seemed to be held together by the blue brooch at his neck.

"Jakob.” She hailed, accepting the tea from him and taking a sip, momentarily pausing before falling back into step towards the oak door that lead to the union between halls and spire. The brew was tepid and tasted fragrant, she enjoyed how it slid down her throat, the taste instantly relaxing her but not so much that she could let go of her failure. 

"Earl Grey this morning, my lady. I trust that it is to your liking?” He asked, taking the saucer and cup from Teresa so that she could acquire the light, silken cloth, she keenly nodded. The white colour shone a faint orange under the candlelight as she progressed past the small outdoor hearth, that Jakob had used to prepare her tea, and through the open door, taking an immediate left so that she could progress toward the bathing area. After halfheartedly admiring the beauty of the cloth she held it to her face and brushed off some of the sweat, wiping the cold fabric down her neck and along her right arm, the tingling fading away in final waves.

"Prince Xander is currently relaxing in your library, my lady. He arrived to escort you to Castle Krakenburg whilst you were training.” Jakob stated, forcing Teresa to stumble a little with surprise. 

"Really?” She asked in astonishment, this time it was her butler that nodded, a gentle smile gracing his face, the type reserved for her.

“Yes.” 

“I wasn’t expecting him to take leave from father’s duties to collect me, it was Leo’s job to collect me today.” She stated, swinging the cloth around the back of her neck to catch some sweat dripping from her teal locks, the unusual colour was not native to Nohr, more to Noltradia, the homeland of her mother who had been one of her father’s concubines. 

“He said that he wanted to surprise you.” Jakob explained as they turned down another hall, handing her back the tea. She took another deep gulp, consuming most of the liquid, her thoughts now becoming clouded with her brother’s presence rather than the event that had just occurred. 

“Perhaps he knew that my tutor was going to drop me and decided to come cheer me up.” Teresa half-heartedly joked, drinking the rest of the liquid from the pale cream cup, handing it back to Jakob for the final time. 

At the end of the hall she saw the broad doors to the bathing area slightly agape, the steam lazily slinking from the hazy room to lick the cold, rocky ceiling above. In silence she approached and crept inside, closing the door behind her to deny Jakob access to the area, this was where her other trusted maids would take charge. 

“My lady.” Both greeted as she turned around. They wore light clothes made of translucent silks, exposing the colours of their flesh and the curves of their bodies usually hidden under their maid uniform. 

“Felicia, Flora.” She acknowledged, turning to her left and gesturing with her hand so that her maids would follow her to the undressing area just beyond. 

“How was training this morning, my lady?” Felicia keenly asked, her pink hair drifting over her shoulders, coming to an abrupt end at her waist. She was by far the more enthusiastic of the sisters, but also the clumsier. Flora, her icy blue hair descending just down by her shoulder blades, was more serious and tended to be quieter. 

“Terrible, my tutor has given up hope on me again.” She sighed, letting her maids unbuckle and untie the slate training clothes she adorned, the fabric gradually peeling away from her in the humid steam. She looked at herself in the mirror as her maids undressed her and smiled, really they were more like friends, along with Jakob they had been raised alongside her for most of their lives, the four of them almost siblings. 

“Oh, that’s unfortunate.” Felicia murmured; just as disheartened as the lady she served. Teresa watched her face become upset and marred with a small frown and smiled at her in the mirror to calm her, then turning her eyes to herself when the top half of the light training clothes were removed. 

Her pale skin was reddened slightly from the surprising physical exertion of the training along with the heat retention of the clothing, her teal locks tumbled over her right shoulder like a river of water, a braid crowning the side of her head as if it were a snake descending into the waterfall where the pony-tail leapt from her scalp. Her oily strand at the front leant to the side to sit just by her right eyebrow, unusual pointed ears semi-covered from the front by some stylised curls of hair, a trait that only she possessed. Her vibrant red eyes glistened like rubies; toward the black in the centre they seemed to reflect her current state of discontent, the colour a remnant from her mother but not entirely unlike her father’s eyes if one looked hard enough. 

When her lower clothing and underwear fell away her naked body was exposed to the pleasant steam, the tingling warmth soaking through her icy muscle to her rock hard bone, she could not wait to immerse her core and warm it in the hot waters. Her toes, almost always uncovered around her homestead, curled into the scratchy stone in excited anticipation for the warming waters. 

Unlike her other two sisters her body was athletic and toned, gently defined muscles could be seen in the ambient light of the room. She did not posses the distinct, luscious curves that her elder sister Camilla flaunted or the soft shape Elise was developing. Instead her breasts were on the smaller side, her body more rigid and column like than either of her sisters, only able to flaunt the small curve of her hips. 

Without another glance at herself she turned around and headed toward the steaming water, out through the small door from which she had entered. As she traveled toward the bath she looked around the steam, its tendrils ascending toward the ceiling in a wispy purple shade, derived from the surrounding candles mounted on the walls by ornate golden holders. A single, large bath lay directly in the centre of the room, in all areas it was shallow enough to sit in, it glimmered with the surrounding light and appeared to breathe as the bath-waters danced. 

Slowly, she descended into the waters and sat down, letting the wet body greet her, its hands lapping against the space between her naval and her breasts with a tender, loving heat. It did not take long for Flora to sit down behind her and begin undoing her oily hair, letting a shallow bucket float atop the lilac water, filled with small glasses of salves to wash and condition her hair. Teresa melted into the motions and inhaled the deep scents of lavender and exotic flowers, occasionally sneering when her hair was manipulated or tugged in an uncomfortable manner. 

“Well, perhaps you’ll pick it up the next time.” Felicia encouraged, even if the statement was a little belated. Teresa chuckled in response, she felt grateful that Felicia always tried to make the best of unfortunate or miserable situations; the hope of performing better did lift her spirits a little along with the scented steams. 

“I really hope so.” Teresa agreed, a tug at her hair replaced by a pleasant scratching at her scalp began to relax her, made her want to fall asleep amongst the lapping bathwater, soon after she could feel Felicia pouring some of the lavender smelling salve over her scalp, the cool liquid in contrast to the humid room and balmy bath.

Flora continued to comb her hair, teasing out some of the knots. “Perhaps tutor number twelve will encourage better results in you.” 

“I really, really hope so.” Teresa reiterated, leaning into Felicia’s hands whilst she massaged the floral liquid into her scalp, feeling some of the foam dribble down her cheek, now rosy from the pleasant heat of the room.

“What was her reason?” Felicia asked, “Are they as petty as some of the other ones?”

She considered Felicia’s question and realised that Myra had not given her a definite reason, she felt a little relieved that Myra had denied her a stupid excuse, instead suggesting the honest reality, that she was not necessarily a natural with tomes after all. 

“I suppose that she felt the way some of the others did,” Teresa speculated, “She just couldn’t break the wall I’ve encountered learning this rank of tomes.” Initially she had shown a lot of promise for tomes, years ago when she had been assessed. The basic practice tomes, the Nohrian-Runic language and pronunciation and the E-class and D-class tomes had all been relatively easy to learn. However, once she had reached the C-class tomes she had encountered problems, her magical constitution seemed too weak to be turned into offensive spells or even minor hexes. 

“Perhaps you should ask King Garon if you could pick up axes instead.” Felicia stated, pouring the warm water over her head a few times to get rid of the foaming salve. Picking up axes as her secondary class was her back up plan, she had shown some promise for them as well.

“No, I can’t.” Teresa denied, shaking her head from side to side, only to feel Flora’s hands travel to her temples to straighten her skull, then falling back into the familiar rhythm of combing her unruly hair. “If I can’t prove that I’m capable of learning this, especially after so long, father will look down on me for it and won’t see me as a soldier capable of leading or even properly leaving this damnable Citadel.”

A brief moment of considerate silence filled the air, only split by the undulating water and moist scraping of the delicate bone comb. Her father, King Garon of Nohr, already seemed to view her as the black sheep of their family, the outcast that was slow to learn. A determined fire, perhaps ignited by the waters, seethed within her, hungry to earn the look of approval from her father for what could very well be the first time, to stand by her eldest sibling Xander as a capable warrior beloved by the people and looked up to by the soldiers. That had been her dream for as long as she could remember. 

“If only I was as fast taking up tomes as I was with swords.” Teresa remarked to break the silence, huffing a little at the end, feeling some of the disappointment and hatred that had gripped her before slide away into the steam, rising and fading away with the transient haze. 

“It’ll come, my lady. Please, have some faith in yourself.” Flora remarked, the comb clicked down against the stone tiles nearby and soon the hands that had been working her hair began to rub her shoulders, loosening the tense muscle. 

“Yes. One-day things will just click!” Felicia giddily contributed. “That’s what happened when I was learning how to handle throwing knives. One day I was terrible with them and then the next I suddenly understood that I was throwing them wrong. I felt the right tension to throw them and things got better from there! Don’t you remember?”

“I do.” Teresa confessed; she was there to see Felicia hit the target for the first time and if she recalled correctly she had very rarely missed it since, even despite her usually clumsy nature.

Suddenly, an extremely cold liquid splashed down her head, over the front of her face and down her chest, a small amount slipping the opposite way along her back. Teresa yelped in surprise and instinctively shuddered, shocked by the sudden change in temperature. 

“My lady! I’m so sorry!” Felicia gasped, doing her best to wipe the thicker salve from Teresa’s face so that it would not get into her eyes. 

“Honestly, you’re so prone to accident, Felicia.” Flora chided, scraping up some of the lotion from her back and smearing it into her hair. 

“I’m sorry!” She apologised again; massaging what was left of the salve into her hair, slowly scraping it along the moist strands. 

“Don’t worry about it, Felicia.” Teresa calmly excused, wiping away some trace amounts of the conditioning lotion from her face whilst Flora began work on combing it through again. She had grown used to Felicia’s blunders; the mistakes were not of great concern to her generally relaxed temperament and if anything the Citadel she called home would feel empty without the familiar panicked vocalisation and frantic repair job Felicia was well known for. However, if she had been a maid to her father such blunders would have seen her flogged and eventually worse for her incompetence. 

“Just make sure that you don’t spill anything on any of the other lords or ladies when we’re present for Princess Camilla’s wedding reception.” Flora reminded her younger sister, earning a small whine from her pink haired counterpart. 

“She’s right.” Teresa agreed, “Father wouldn’t take it too well if you spilled something on Camilla’s wedding dress … I don’t think that she would either.”

“Yes, I wouldn’t want to ruin her special day.” A meek tone of voice struck Felicia as she rinsed the salve from Teresa’s scalp, the combing stopped soon after as well. Teresa cautiously opened her eyes and rubbed away the water before turning around to watch Felicia and Flora quickly wash their hair with the remnants of the salves. 

The talk of her elder sister pulled her thoughts to her wedding, an event that was supposed to help quell the restless and somewhat antagonistic Rever house in the west, their alliance was needed to help with the invasion of Hoshido this land desperately craved. Being starved for resources, particularly foodstuffs and crops, and lacking sufficient amounts of trade to feed everyone, this was a necessary step to keep Nohr alive and away from the brink of anarchy fuelled collapse, if that had not started happening already.

An ironic smile tugged at her lips as her thoughts dragged away from the war on the horizon and more towards the unusual pairing, or so she thought. It seemed like a waste of Camilla’s natural physical strength to marry her to a house well known for their magic, particularly their abilities to cast strong illusions. She shrugged to herself, apparently Camilla got on well with Hans, the head of house Rever, really that was all that mattered, hopefully Camilla’s presence and everything this union promised would cease their hostility.

Although, many other houses were becoming antsy as well, their brief unity was slowly collapsing due to the failing crop yields, the lack of food nursing a breeding ground for anarchy and trouble. Things were particularly bad in the north where the Cawdor, Dane and their sub houses resided; their crop yields deprived due to the blistering cold and year round night. 

She watched as her twin maids quickly finished scrubbing and combing through their hair with the remaining lotions before she stood up and stretched, reviling in the radiating warmth of her loosened cords of muscle, letting a small whine drip from her lips towards the end of the motion. Her maids were quick to stand and exit the water, Felicia collecting the implements they had used to wash and brush her hair. Once the water parted from her calves the bottom of her feet connecting with the moist yet heated stone tiles, she padded back to her right to travel into the dressing room, keen to get dressed quickly and meet her brother whom patiently waited in the library. 

*

Just ahead of her the solid doors to her Citadel’s peaceful library opened, soundless despite their ancient hinges and colossal size, the butlers that stood by the door bowed to her as she walked past, smiling when she thanked them with a brisk nod of her head and broad smile. Unlike her father she liked to treat her staff kindly, they maintained her home, fed and even clothed her, they deserved to be treated with respect for their services. 

When she crossed into the library she was overwhelmed with the scent of weathered pages and dry leather, an aroma that must have been engrained into her by the hours that she spent curled up amongst the pages of her favourite poetry. Her feet travelled briefly from the polished wood onto the plush red carpet, her gaze travelling through the shelves and seating areas to find her noble brother. 

It did not take long, she sauntered quietly into the central area and briefly paused, her brother’s back was to her and his head deep in the throws of a novel, the fire before him raging and hitting her with the strong but localised scent of smoke and herbs from the fire. Above the fire place the painting of her mother tenderly hung, her ruby eyes and smile glistening down on her daughter, teal hair curling down over her shoulders, forever dressed in black and crowned with the feather to denote her concubine status. 

Carefully, Teresa began to stalk her brother; approach quietly behind him, even wearing riding boots her feet made no sound as she slowly approached him. The closer she crept, the wider her smile became, it was a childish idea, yet she could not resist the thrill of catching her brother by surprise, his sudden jump and agape face the reward for a successful hunt. Her hands rose into the air above his shoulders, ready to push down on them quick and hard, fingers twitching with anticipation. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Xander purred, his head still firmly planted in the book before him, some of the writing was faded. “You know that I don’t like it.”

“Damn it.” She mumbled, brushing her hand through her moistened, free-flowing hair before she sighed and sat down in the chair closest to the fireplace, adjusting it slightly so that she was facing him. The red velvet cushions supporting her were soft like clouds, perfect for transporting the reader away to a different world. In front of Xander on the small table between them sat a little tea set, an orange cup vomiting steam from the fresh concoction of tea, some small cakes and fruit slumbered on a stand next to the pot, begging her to eat them. A soft chuckle from her brother caught her attention.

“Go ahead and eat them, you know that I’m not one for sweets anyway.” He stated, still engaged in the book, his eyes drifting down the page. Once they had reached the bottom they looked up to her and blinked a few times, the manuscript in his hands closing with a soft thud, as if fulfilled that it had finally been opened and allowed to breath after such a long time. 

Today he was dressed sharp and crisp in a soft grey vest with ornate golden lining at the top, it seemed in contrast to the puffy white blouse beneath it. His pants were black like the lingering night outside, yet not showy; they were for the purpose of riding. His blond hair was styled like it usually was, naturally curly towards the back yet straight at the top, a remnant from father, a single strand delicately swept to the left side of his face, as if it were trying to protect him from her gaze. The onyx circlet sat snug on his brow, a gift from their father when Xander had finally been promoted to a Paladin and granted command of his own forces. 

Deep russet eyes seemed softened from being tired, perhaps a restless night sleep from the growing list of duties he had to attend to. He must have noticed her sympathetic staring because his expression began to lighten and his eyes widen, grinning and cocking his head to the side as if asking her a question. She broke her gaze to acquire some of the sweet food on the stand, throwing some small cakes into her mouth to please her insatiable sweet tooth. 

“You look nice today, sister.” He acknowledged, a hint of amusement on his tone, he was unused to seeing her dressed in anything half as pretty as this. She paused her chewing to look down at her clothing, a black, dress like shirt with a silver buttoned front travelling from below her breasts to the top of her groin, then ceasing with the steep angle that travelled up towards her hips and then down toward he rear. The sleeves were ruffled with a glossy fabric that was different from the rest of the piece, yet it worked as did the medium cut that exposed some of her collar bone and upper chest region, still modest but slightly questionable. Like her brother, she wore black riding pants and freshly polished riding boots, prepared for the hour-long ride to Windham. 

“Thank you!” She mumbled after swallowing the first batch, this time picking up what appeared to be miniature glazed custard tarts from the line up of enticing foods. “You look handsome as always. I suppose you’ll look better tomorrow evening when you get the attention of all those prospective court ladies.”

Xander sighed; he seemed a little unnerved by the attention of so many women at one time. “Perhaps Leo will diffuse some of that attention.”

“Maybe.” Teresa agreed, nibbling on the vanilla tasting custard and sweet pastry case, grinning a little with with the discovery of fruit amongst the velvety mix. She thought of her suave younger brother, the air he tended to give off in public, and then she considered his awkward side and decided that he would be more likely to display that when harassed by handfuls of the most beautiful women in Nohr, each one of them wanting to bed him. 

“Are you sure that High Priest Martin won’t think that clothing too immodest or flamboyant for your position?” Xander sighed, making her feel a little bit self-conscious. She swallowed the rest of the tart and moistened her mouth before replying.

“Oh please, for the head of Nachtfoi he dresses a bit too ornate, perhaps he spends the money the masses donate on his clothing and not on acquiring their food.” Teresa replied with a cheeky grin, after a long stare from Xander he nodded and agreed. She considered the Nachtfoi, the holy men and women of their land and servants of their Lord God Anankos, they presented themselves as just and noble with cause, but she knew better about the higher ups. Being born the third child of King Garon, she was required to attend important religious events and sit on the highest pedestal as the representative of their draconic ancestry and descendants of their Lord God.

“I wouldn’t voice those opinions in front of anyone else, those are dangerous words.” Xander warned, his typical protective older brother instinct bringing authority to his voice, the teasing familiar side replaced by something she was less acquainted with, the rising Prince in him. For a moment their eyes connected in a tense display, she was forced to look away, leaning back into the chair and towards the fire to her side. He sighed and leaned back as well, the tension in their sibling relationship thickening the air once more. 

Lately their bond had been improving from the damage it had suffered years earlier, however moments like these were still common occurrences, her teasing and jokes occasionally becoming lost to his critical and serious side. Before, when they had been children, he had never missed her jokes and had always understood when she was not being serious. But his time at court and withdrawal from not only her but also the rest of their siblings meant that he had become less in touch with their humours and more thoughtful about the politics of court and the possible hidden meanings of voiced statements. 

He cleared his throat, earning her attention. “Perhaps we should get going, a long day of rehearsal and preparation lies ahead of us.” He did not wait for her reply; he took a long sip of his tea and stood up, she was quick to follow in her brother’s lead, she always had been. After a few steps out of the central area a long sigh slithered from Xander’s lips, she could feel the weight of it, a mixture of exhaustion and what seemed to be remorse. 

“I’m sorry about just now. I know things have been rough between us, it’s just - the events at court have changed me to be more considerate of those who lurk around us. Just make sure that you don’t say anything scandalous like that around the lords and ladies or even the more religious staff here, alright?” He whispered, placing a hand on her shoulder, briefly squeezing it in an affectionate way. She could not bring herself to meet his eyes so she bowed her head and nodded.

“I’ll try.” Teresa replied, not in the same whisper that her brother had used but a more assertive tone. 

“You won’t.” He sternly corrected her, bringing his hand back down to his side and letting the silence hang between them for a few more seconds. As they approached the butlers at the door he began to talk again, trying his best to maintain the tone of voice she was had bee used to as a child, from when they had slept in father’s libraries and played in the gardens, even from when he had taught her to ride a horse. 

“Leo and Elise will be happy to see you after so long. Camilla won’t be coming until later, she has some speech practice to attend to first for when she gives her vows.” He murmured, stopping momentarily to return the book to its home on the giant shelves, its siblings tightly cuddling it upon arrival. 

“Yes.” She agreed, trying to produce a lighter tone in her voice, using the best of her acting ability to try and convince him that she had shrugged the tension off as fast as it had appeared. “It’s been a while, they’ve both been so busy learning. Has Elise taken up tomes yet?”

“Not yet, however she’s doing well with staves.” Xander replied, acknowledging the butlers by the door as they exited, the one to her side moving toward the central area to collect the tea and sweets stand once she had passed. Just ahead of them Jakob waited in the hallway, silent and stern, maintaining his bow until they had moved past.

“She’ll pick up on it fast, it’s in her nature to learn quickly.” Teresa acknowledged, a hint of jealousy tainting her voice before it succumbed to a sweet smile, she had missed Elise’s regular visits. However, she had come to an age where her training had to take priority, unfortunately she was not perusing swords, an area she could hone her younger sister’s skill in. 

“Father was considering hiring Myra to tutor her as well. Has she been able to help you?” Xander asked, his sentence trailing off once he noticed the growing pout on her face. 

“I think that she would help Elise, however she dropped me this morning. She had that face that told me she had become tired of teaching me.” She stated, waving her hand in a dismissible manner, here eyes briefly caught Xander’s, his seemed to reflect the sympathy of knowing that exact feeling. 

“Onto the next one then?” He asked, her only reply being a stern nod. “Don’t worry, it takes persistence. I had a similar issue with public speaking, remember?”

“Won’t father be mad? According to Flora the next tutor I get will be the twelfth one.” Teresa sighed, shifting some loose hair behind her pointed ears, watching the stone floor move below her clicking steps. 

“Stick with it, you’ll get there, I promise. I wasn’t a natural with the sword and had similar troubles, I even cycled through many tutors like you did. I think that it was practicing that allowed me to break the wall I encountered with my parrying technique.” Xander encouraged, his voice taking up the familiar warm tones she remembered, helping raise her spirits just as Felicia had done before. Deep within her the oily grip of fear pulled at her stomach, dreading her father’s reaction. Would he be mad? Would he spite her? Or worse, would he say nothing?

“I do practice.” She mumbled, feeling a gust of cold air come from down the corridor, the scents of horse and hay carried upon the wind. A familiar chuckle caught Xander, bringing her attention to him. 

“Do you mean that you practice a little bit before becoming frustrated and taking up the sword? Or do you mean that you practice consistently with tomes?” His tone was lighthearted, as were his eyes, earning him a smile as a reward and dispelling some of the lingering tension. He had the right idea to an extent.

“The former I suppose.” She guiltily agreed, wringing her wrist as they descended the small cluster of steps into the stables. 

“Maybe I should ask Leo to come and supervise your practice, make sure that you’re actually doing what you’re supposed to do.” He teased, making her grin to the point where her sharp canines protruded and shone in the orange candlelight. 

“You know we’d only get into a fight about it. He doesn’t have the patience to help me for too long – if anything it’d make me take to sword quicker.” Teresa huffed, coming to a standstill before a small crowd before them, filled with familiar faces. Each of them addressed Xander and bowed before turning to her and doing the same, almost in unison, a few more enthusiastic than others. 

“Good morning.” Teresa hailed, nodding her head to Gunter. Her ancient guardian and friend stood by his horse, a soft smile gracing his well-aged features, only disturbed by the scar that marred his left brow, cheek and right side of his chin. The orange candlelight made his pale, lilac hair appear more vibrant alongside the night sky outside. He was in the process of finishing tacking up his dark brown stallion, Mercer, the great horse nodding its head up and down in a friendly way. 

Next to him but in a closer position was her chief stablehand Lilith, her unusual features clashed with almost everyone around her, the strange beauty of her yellow eyes and blue-red hair vibrant against her pale skin. She was tacking up Teresa’s horse, Velvet, the beautiful chestnut mare with a white smudge between her eyes, mane braided into the fashion currently popular in Nohr. 

Across the stable Lazward, one of Xander’s retainers, stood with the reigns to his master’s stallion, Ausdauer, in his hand, grinning when she caught his brown eyes, a strand of ashen hair drifting over his brow.

“My lady,” He acknowledged again, bowing down with a noble elegance similar to that of her brother, perhaps he had learnt how to bow correctly from Xander, perhaps he possessed a talent for holding himself highly. His unusual and unplaced foreign accent smoothly purred with his voice, an accent nobody in her castle could place from the continent they lived on. From behind his back he produced a lilac flower, “I saw this flower on the way here and thought it fitting of your beauty.”

She accepted the flower and placed the stalk behind her ear so that it seemed to float amongst the river of hair swept to her right side. 

“Thank you Lazward, I hope that you have given the other women you may have seen along the way here flowers that are just as fitting to their beauty. I like the one you picked for me today, it’s simple and modest, less beautiful than many of the other wild flowers growing along the path.” She replied nonchalantly but with a hint of a tease, a shy blush fiercely gripped his cheeks, forcing him to look away and partake in a nervous grin. She would not fall victim to his womanising and casual flirting, a small smile made the sides of her mouth twitch, she was not deluded about herself, she was very plain compared to many other women and showed more beauty with a sword in hand then dressed for a ball.

Her eyes finally glanced at Pieri, depressing her smile a little bit. She did not get on well with her brother’s other retainer. Like Lilith, her hair was blue but did not fade to red, instead to a soft shade of pink familiar to those pure and central to house Glover. The girl briefly acknowledged her with her single rosy eye before fixing her stare on Xander, smiling broadly at her brother. 

“Prince Xander!” She happily acknowledged, bounding up to her brother’s side and tilting her head. “Pieri just got done with tacking up Ausdauer. Has Pieri done well?”

“You have.” Xander praised, earning a broad grin from her master. 

Teresa sneered a little bit before turning away and walking to Lilith’s side. She did not get on well with Pieri, mostly because she treated her servants and staff with so little regard, killing them for no reason apart from whenever she felt like it or suspected them of treachery. Not only that, but time and time again Pieri had tried to discipline her-own staff for trivial failures or paranoia based reasoning. This, amongst other trivial disagreements, meant that they often bickered and generally did not see eye to eye. Just beyond them Jakob mounted his horse and trotted over so that he was beside Felicia and Flora, each of them atop a grey mare. 

“Thank you for your service this morning, Lilith. When we reach Windham please feel free to go and get something to eat with Felicia and Flora nearby the Cathedral.” Teresa acknowledged whilst she grabbed Velvet’s reigns and lead her from the stable, the chestnut mare happily neighed in response to her presence and the promise of a long walk. 

“Of course, my lady.” Lilith agreed, travelling beyond her to get her horse Kobalt, a steely stallion that she had already tacked up. After a few seconds of bouncing up and down, her left foot in the stirrup, she ascended onto her horse, allowing the right foot to fall into place and the adjustment of her groin in the saddle. Satisfied, she urged Velvet into a trot, bringing her beside Xander’s horse, allowing another question to slip into her mind, one she had forgotten to ask earlier.

“So, why couldn’t Leo come here and get me himself? He was supposed to come and fetch me this morning, wasn’t he?” She asked, bringing Velvet into a walk alongside Xander, watching his facial features fade into the light of the crescent moon and stars as they exited the stable. This stable was the primary one and exited into a smaller courtyard, the dusty frontal twin of the yard she had been training in with her tome just an hour before. This court opened up to the bridge that lead over the small chasm to the outside world, a stony tongue licking the soil on the other side. The wide doors were open to expose the base of some small mountains that encapsulated her Citadel, their sides barren from vegetation with the exception of an occasional dried husk of a former tree. 

“Is it so wrong that I wished to take his place and come surprise my sister?” Xander huffed, pretending to be a little insulted. 

“I just wasn’t expecting it considering that I can’t recall the last time you came to visit. Jakob had given me that reason earlier, however I was expecting an alternate agenda to your arrival here.” Teresa stated defensively, raising her hands and palms toward Xander, he only smiled before turning his attention to their small party. Her own little segment of it was comprised of all the people she would need, the other half of her staff permanently resided within her quarters in Castle Krakenburg, maintaining it for whenever she was compelled or otherwise permitted to visit.

Xander led their little group out under the gate, Pieri and Lazward leading them atop the bridge a few lengths ahead of them with torches in hand, her own staff lagging back a little behind her. The moon clung to the sky, allowing a vague shade of grey light to stick to the surrounding environment despite the skinny form the celestial body took, making some of it visible to her keen Nohrian eyes. Outside the silhouettes of the mountain peaks could be made out against the iridescent, speckled sky, today they would not see any sun, its glowing tip would not be seen on the horizon for another few weeks. 

The sky itself took on a shade close to pitch black, the opposite to the shimmering sons and daughters it supported and birthed with the moon. Above them, high in the sky, she could make out the constellation of Anankos, a giant serpentine spiral that was praised to be their God, watching his children from his heavenly abode. A scoff slipped from her lips, despite her strictly ceremonial position as the High Priestess of the church, she was not inclined to believe in such legends, making her position ironic. 

Xander began some casual conversation as they travelled toward Windham’s northeastern entrance, a large gate supported by two spires thrust high into the sky. He shed light to what she had missed in the castle, the antics Elise had been up to and the achievement’s Leo had been showered with, finally coming into his position as a Dark Knight and receiving his own circlet crown from Father. 

She listened with great intent, smiling with the thought of Leo wearing his circlet with great pride, Elise clinging to her side, likely excited to tell her about taking up tomes, Camilla’s beauty and elegance igniting the room and Xander’s protective eyes fondly looking upon them all alongside that of their noble father, watching and hoping that this marriage would unify and enrapture the nation.


	2. In the High House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teresa visits Windham and is awestruck by the change she sees in Leo. She learns some surprising news regarding her family.

# ~ A Minute Before Dawn ~

# Blooming Moon Arc

### Chapter Two: In the High House

Every time she set foot in Windham, Nohr’s capital, it took her breath away, the striking colours almost mirroring the sky and mountains she had regarded earlier, fit for the poetry that had been spun and delicately crafted by the poets of old. Each spire crept toward the sky, most of them adorned with their own speckled red lights, ebbing and flowing in time like the heartbeat of the city. 

Once her small party had entered Windham’s great northeastern gates, The Mouth as they were commonly referred to, they had descended steep slopes and trekked through small patches of farmland until they had reached the circular fort atop the injured land. Deep within, her father’s castle sat snug and protected, away from the thralls of night and tucked within an artificial day, the twinkling rosy lights amassing and throbbing in sync as if the castle’s presence deep beneath the soil was a wound to the beaten land. 

They had passed through the circular fort – God’s Ring – where they had acquired more guard, Paladin’s and Cavalier’s of varying ranks, all of them willing to die should their party be the target of malicious intent. Through God’s Ring Xander had briefly paused to arm himself with Siegfried, the sacred sword of their land, wreathed in a darkness to mirror the estate of its birth. A shining crimson stone at the sword’s cutaway appeared to pay homage to the rare blood moon. A golden spine-like pattern clung to the centre of the hilt and clashed with the long, black blade that split to form a hollow centre, its edge glowed a faint red to match the pulsing beat that enraptured the rest of its ancestral home. 

As they departed God’s Ring through the small military courtyard she looked to the new gate – The Prongs, it was smaller than The Mouth and the doors were of a dark brown wood, heavily bolted with black metals to prevent the invasion of any unwanted people. Atop the grand wall arrow and magic based ballista perched, crowning it like jewels and threatening to crush any parasitic people that wanted access to the castle and the wealthy that dwelled beneath it. 

“Princess.” A raspy voice sounded from just beside her, causing her to start and quickly turn toward the ancient source, a hand temporarily moving to her left side to grip the hilt of the sword that simply was not there. Gunter looked down to where her hand had travelled with a fond and approving smile, watching as she wiggled her fingers and returned them to her reigns. 

“Yes?” Teresa questioned, brushing back some of her hair, it was still slightly moist toward the nape of her neck. 

“I didn’t mean to startle you, milady.” Gunter chuckled, a soft smile crinkling his withering skin; she grinned in response and shrugged it off. 

“No, it’s alright. I was just deep in thought about Windham. It never seems to change between visits.” She explained, watching the path as it snaked toward Brillauge Square, the heart of Nohr’s aptly named ‘Religious District’, the stomach that fed the starving masses and home of the church and its clergy whom preached the word of a God that did not seem to care.

“I think that Windham is a capital that takes a long time to see change and develop, one would need to live centuries to see even a small change to the way things are here.” Gunter explained, earning a vague nod from his lady. Teresa observed the fabrics that hung outside of haberdasheries, displays simple with guards defending against theft beside the wears they protected. Other stores displayed dried meats, vegetables or fruits, even more guarded than the others and their products sparse. Warnings hung from the walls detailing various ways people would be punished, all of them ending in an excruciating but sanctioned death. People lingered and watched as they passed, their eyes prying and curious, maybe hopeful of charity, crowds thickening as they approached the square.

A deep inhale returned the familiar smells of Windham to her. The warm perfume of baking breads and roasting meat, the yeasty fragrance of ale as they passed by taverns and the faint traces of ozone that naturally clung to the air at all times. But with the good smells came the bad. The occasional waft of stale piss, the musty choke of smoke and the sporadic musk of blood. These were the smells of her home, even the ‘bad smells’ were familiar and comforting, she wished that she could bottle them up and save them forever. 

“If only a poet could live several lifetimes.” She mused, turning her face to reward him with a smile. After a brief moment he nodded and a more serious look gripped his face, she braced herself for some news of her magical arts teacher that had apparently left her Citadel with incredible haste, as if fearing a wrath similar to her father’s when he was angry.

“I understand that Myra will no longer be teaching you the magic arts.” Gunter stated, like his face a strict tone seemed to ensnare his voice, harkening back to time when he had taught Windham’s soldiers and led troops to battle.

“You understand correctly.” A more neutral tone settled in her voice when she replied, maintaining eye contact with Gunter and giving him her full attention. 

“A shame.” Gunter sighed, “I’ll request a brief audience with King Garon tonight to discuss this with him and ask your father’s course of action.” 

“Thank you, Gunter.” Teresa said, finishing their conversation as the Grand Cathedral came into the view before them on her left side, domes speckled in white light, illuminating the slate tiles along their swollen side with a holy ambiance. She broke Gunter’s side so that she could ride by her brother, admiring the stony magnificence of the structure. Along the outside of its circular girth dark grey columns stood like sentinels, fending off the corroding hands of time. Nohrian banners of blue and gold gently stirred with a faint breeze, the Rever orange crescent moon and open tome displaying golden words in Nohrian-Runic fluttered against their dull scarlet backgrounds. 

Brillauge Square hosted crowds of people, some of them working to hang banners and ornate decorations, some the Imperial Guard, others spectators writhing and fighting to catch a glimpse of a life that was beyond them, of people revered as descendants of God. Teresa felt slightly unnerved by the eyes that turned to look at her, some from children that appeared like they had not seen a meal in days, whilst other pairs belonged to the prying eyes a darker side of Nohrian society. Yet most people seemed hopeful and loving, genuinely enraptured with the sight of their royalty. 

Their horses ascended the stairs and stopped just before the outgrowth of patient columns, she followed her brothers lead as he dismounted and handed his reigns to Lazward, Lilith grabbed her own. Without much thought she silently followed her brother, entering through a hole in a wall of Nohrian guards and onto the ground many thought of as sacred. Beneath them simple cobblestone turned to scales of dark grey tile that looked like they might inhale if left for long enough, as if Anankos slumbered beneath the protective dome and cathedral. A smirk gripped her; what mighty God would let its mortal creations walk and build legions atop its magnificent scales? 

Anankos certainly would not allow such a thing. 

Her riding boots clicked against the stony floors and underneath a sculpted arch, reaching the small basin brimming with holy waters. The inside of it glimmered with a thousand colours as the white candles shone against the mother of pearl lining. Xander dipped his fingers into the waters and closed his eyes, raising them to touch his forehead whilst he recited a prayer. It seemed like her brother had become more in touch with religion over the past few years, slowly but surely, perhaps she had offended him with her earlier statement as well. Teresa reluctantly sighed but followed the same course of action, she was the High Priestess or otherwise Popess of the Nachtfoi, if she were caught not following the most basic of their rules it would reflect poorly upon her lineage and herself. It would make father mad and she would be scorned heavily for it.

Her fingers dipped the bottom of the basin, against the smooth mother of pearl and quaked slightly against the icy waters. She raised her hands and closed her eyes, letting her freezing fingers grace her forehead with the blessed water, quietly mouthing the most basic of Nohrian prayers. Satisfied with her halfhearted offering she smiled at Xander and led him into the cathedral beyond. 

Bustling crowds of people hastily worked the floors, the walls, anywhere that would attract the attention of those seated for Camilla’s wedding ceremony. The spaces between paintings of religious stories held the same banners as outside the mighty structure. The pews looked as lush and comfortable as the seats in her library with the addition of magnificent cushions, likely possessing the same capacity to transport any person that sat upon them away into whatever yarn the High Priest read from the colossal golden book of scripture. 

Within the sea of busy people, each of them too hectic to see the entrance of the crown prince of Nohr, Teresa could spot the distinct golden curls laced with died purple strands signature to her younger sister, Elise. 

“They’re over there.” She said to Xander, grabbing the cuff of his blouse to pull him in the right direction, he followed without a word, only releasing a soft chuckle similar to when she had forced him to follow her as a child. Her brief glance behind him revealed that only Jakob and Gunter had followed her into the cathedral as expected, their guard had thinned down but still lingered behind them, stalking like shadows.

As the crowds dispersed she could see that Elise was talking to Leo, he seemed a little irritated by her excited bouncing and high pitched squeak. However, it was not his expression that made her pause and stare, mouth agape, it was what he wore, his sudden transformation.

“He’s grown into quite the prince over the last few months, hasn’t he?” Xander said as if reading her mind, standing by her side and watching their brother try to calm Elise down. Despite the casual demeanor of the day he wore his noble armor of a Dark Knight, ebony sheets lined with iridescent gold, shimmering even in the modest light of the cathedral. Around his shoulders a cape made of silk hung, its exterior a tantalising navy whilst the interior displayed a royal purple lining.

He stood in a different way as well, his arms crossed behind his back in a strict and principled fashion different from what she had seen months earlier, full of accomplishment and pride. His golden hair was also slightly shorter than she remembered, cropped to the sides of his youthful face, supported by the ebony circlet that clung to the top of his hair, a gift from father. 

Despite her pride in seeing Leo looking so noble, like a true prince of Nohr, she could not help but feel some pangs of jealousy roil around in her gut, hardening the smile she wore. He was younger than her, yet he had found favour with father first, if dropping another tutor from service this morning had not been hard hitting enough, this had about done it. A small squeeze on her shoulder drew her attention to Xander; he was not smiling yet he wore a soft face, still serious yet wise with experience that was beyond her. “Your time’s coming, you’ll be the next.”

All she could do in response was sigh and continue toward Leo, determined to push her own cravings for her fathers affections and recognition aside to celebrate that he had won fathers praises, had earned his onyx crown. She knew that Leo, no matter how hard he hid it, wanted the admiration of his eldest siblings just as much as she craved it from father. His victories in maturing into a commanding soldier would be overshadowed by Camilla’s wedding, just like her he would be pushed to the side again to make room for the milestones in their elder siblings lives.

A question rushed into her mind, was he wearing this armour now because he wanted her praise as well? Desired for her to acknowledge that he had bested her in their unspoken competition to determine who would earn a crown from father first.

Whilst she approached she took in Elise, she wore a soft white dress with light grey detailing depicting something that could be a spring breeze and flowers, the craftsmanship almost lost to the low levels of light. She wore white bows today, small rubies were mounted in a golden frame at their centre, almost as if they were little, frozen hearts. 

Her siblings stood by the Grand Alter, despite the darker colour scheme apparent in the rest of the Cathedral, the alter was made of pristine white stone. A golden stand in the shape of a dragon held the weight of the heady collection of scriptures. Bowls of fruit and loaves of bread slumbered atop a modest red cloth that draped down the front of the alter, the symbol of Nohr igniting it with a golden luster. A brief glance around the area revealed that her sibling’s retainers were hanging back, having a conversation in their own small group.

Leo’s retainers were two eccentric men, but both in very different ways. Odin, the blond Dark Mage was clad in yellow and possessed an identical accent to Lazward, always had a passion of making a spectacle out of any event, as if every aspect of his life were being acted out in front of her like a long play. Yet, despite his joking nature and habit of screaming out excessive titles for himself, she had seen darkness in his eyes more than once before. He kept it well hidden, yet when he was caught off guard and exposed that different set of eyes, it was almost frightening to see. 

Niles was the other retainer with a loose tongue for blatant sexual metaphors and self-arousing descriptions of making nobility suffer. For Nohr his darker skin and white hair were exotic, yet his piercing blue eyes seemed at home with those from the south. She stared at him, suspicious. He may have been in her brother’s service for a long while, however she did not trust him. He had origins as a freelance Thief and would have access to Castle Krakenburg’s riches should he wish to rob her family of their most prized heirlooms and treasures, and would likely have a detailed escape route for his exit. His talk of making nobility suffer also did not help her relax around him, even if he made such vivid claims with a teasing tone, she could almost palpate the hints of honesty that dripped from his tongue.

Next to him stood Arthur whom seemed to be deep within the throws of thrilling stories, perhaps about his own personal experiences with his notoriously bad luck. His blond hair was stylised so that it was swept back in what he seemed to think was a heroic look. A permanent smile lay etched onto his sculpted face; sometimes she wondered if smiling like that all the time caused him pain. He was clad in his normal Fighter gear; the red and blue appeared deeper in colour under the soft light.

The last of the quartet was Effie, the only woman amongst them and the only one with noble blood. She belonged to house Pyke of the south, the family that provided the most soldiers to the Nohrian war effort. She was the daughter of Lord Angus, the head of their house. Despite her medium frame she was inhumanly strong, a common trait amongst her bloodline, but with that unnatural strength came her colossal urge to eat. Teresa could only smile as she watched Effie eye off some nearby food that was being used as an offering to their God, probably considering if she could get away with eating it or not. She was not wearing her steely Knight armour today and her silvery hair was down, just touching the lower tips of her shoulder blades. 

“Sister!” A high pitch voiced hailed her, her attention turning back to Elise, allowing a broad grin to seize her. Before she had time to react she felt Elise’s body weight slam into her chest and pull at the back of her neck, if would have been enough to push her over if not for her sure footing.

“Elise!” Teresa exclaimed, a little breathless after the intensity of her younger sisters hug. She looked down into Elise’s lilac eyes, her younger sister peering up to her from her stomach, hiding her smile against Teresa’s black clothing. 

“Come on, Elise. Give Teresa some time to greet Leo.” Xander encouraged, kneeling down and opening his arms to invite their youngest sibling into his hug, an offer that she was all too keen to accept. Teresa shook her head from side to side in an affectionate way before turning and walking over to Leo.

“Are you too noble for a hug now, brother?” She asked with a joking tone that only made Leo smirk, he left her open arms exposed for a few seconds before breaking his rigid stance to hug her. The plates of armour rubbed against her, denying her proper warmth from his hug.

“I thought that you would deny me.” She stated, keeping up a strong face so that Leo would not see her seething envy. 

“If I denied you I’m sure that you’d only wrestle me to the ground and force me to hug you.” He teased back in a familiar way, it was nice to know that so far only his physical appearance had been changed by his promotion. 

“That’s a good idea for next time.” She confidently asserted with unwavering eye contact, unnerving her younger brother slightly. “Relax, Leo, I was only joking.”

“Sometimes you’re too cruel, sister.” He sighed, closing his eyes and breathing deeply to regain some composure, only opening them and cocking his head to the side when she did not respond.

“I’m proud of you.” Teresa whispered, summoning those words with as much confidence as she could, dropping her gaze to the floor and wringing her wrists whilst. She chuckled a little bit to try and dispel some of her own tension. She loved him, he was her brother, and it was unfair to rob him of the praise he deserved because of her own disappointment. “You did it! You beat me.”

After a moments silence Leo replied. “I did, but you put up a good fight. With Myra at your side you’ll follow me soon … surely …”

His sentence trailed off as she shook her head from side to side whilst pursing her lips, raising her gaze to give him a fleeting moment of disappointed eye contact.

“Oh.” Leo sighed, his jaw noticeably tensing with the awkward situation, after a while he managed to say another word, seemingly unsure about how to progress. “When?” “A couple of hours ago.” She sighed, now it was Leo who was looking down, hands on hips.

“Next time.” Leo exhaled, watching as she shook her head again. His tone seemed strained, likely trying to encourage her whilst thick with the idea that she would not get another chance.

“What’s going to make tutor number twelve so different?” Teresa sighed with frustration, she could be the most honest with Leo, he was the most realistic out of all her siblings, or so she felt. The others gave her the benefit of the doubt through hope; Leo was more prone to seeing the outcomes of situations based separately from faith. 

“I don’t know.” Leo acknowledged, when he shrugged his shoulders his armour made a pleasant scratching sound. Teresa turned to see where Xander was; he was still talking with Elise. 

“I know Xander isn’t deluded enough to guess that father probably won’t give me another chance at this.” She began, turning and sitting down on the steps, tapping next to her so that Leo would sit beside her. “But he’s hopeful, you’re more realistic.”

“There are few people left in Nohr that would be capable of teaching you. Myra herself had to come from the southern border patrol just to try.” Leo acknowledged, accepting her invitation to sit next to her. 

“I know.” Teresa said, watching the list of names in her mind grow shorter and shorter with every failed tutor.

“I can’t say that I’m much help, all we’d do is get frustrated and fight.” Leo bluntly stated, recalling the many times he had tried to help in the past, only to fall into arguments with her. 

“I’ll see what father says, he must have a reason for allowing me to repeat this rank of tomes so many times if he has allowed me to have twelve tutors.” Teresa pondered; drawing a blank on what father would gain from her continued struggle. She did not want to give up on tomes. The feeling of the magic against her skin, the ancient runes, all of it captivated her. Yet she always did better with the artistry of steel or iron and the swing of a sharp edge in her hand. 

“Sometimes father can be a mystery.” Leo contemplated, watching the people around them run about and prepare like bees in a hive, each one of them with a role to play, a job to do. “As far as magic tutors go I can only think of two others that may be able to help you.”

Her gaze turned to his, but before she could ask whom they were they were interrupted with the deep herald of a man.

“Ah, King Garon’s beautiful children! How are you this fine morning?” This drew the attention of all of her siblings. Teresa had to turn her torso around to behold the stout man. He was of medium height and despite the food shortages in Nohr he did not seem to be affected, his white robes swelling where his stomach was supposed to be hidden. The rest of the gowns possessed ornate red artistry depicting Anankos wrapping around him until the mighty dragon’s head and neck curled around his collar. He was supposed to be around the same age as Gunter, yet he appeared more worn down by the malicious waves of time, the only colour from his youth being his blue eyes. His hair was naturally a light shade of grey, only making him appear older than he was. Atop his pale head a large mitre sat, encrusted with jewels of ruby and diamond and woven with golden threads. 

A pompous glutton was all she could ever think when she saw him, a man who ate and likely whored his way around in utmost secret. Yet he preached to the poor about never breaking the sins he committed himself, somehow blinding them to think that he was just as moral as they hoped to be. Effortlessly she placed the most modest smile on her lips that she could muster, softening her eyes, acting the vessel that was free of sin for the enjoyment and control of so many.

“High Priest Martin.” Teresa greeted, she did not bother to stand like her other siblings did. Technically speaking she ranked higher than him when on this holy ground; she was the Popess of this church, of the starving people in the streets throughout Nohr. 

“Ah! Popess Teresa, what an honor it is to see you here in this House of God again after such a long time away training!” He praised, walking over to her so that he could kneel down and plant a kiss on her hand, his oily lips made her stomach roil but she smiled and thanked him anyway. “I do hope that the results of your hard work have been seen by Anankos and have been aptly rewarded.”

“Of course.” She lied, suppressing a snide laugh due to the amusement. When her mother had sacrificed her life to save her during the Krakenburg Massacre, only five years ago, she had prayed to God every hour of every day to have her returned to the mortal world. Before then she had prayed that all the starving people in Nohr would be fed and clothed, that Silas would be allowed visit and train with her more often and that the Nohrian’s would stop fighting amongst themselves. 

Yet none of her prayers had been answered, none had been addressed. And with every prayer unanswered she had lost faith, a God that at its least did not tend his people or feed the starving was no God that she would worship, if Gods even existed in the first place. Unlike so many she saw the church for what it really was, a way to control the masses and sedate them from further anarchy, a flock that was quite literally as controllable as sheep. 

Now it only seemed ironic that he would bring up her training, if Anankos really did exist, it looked down on her and found cruel humour in her consistent bout of tome failure. “My lady, I’m eager to eventually hear the news of the decimation of the eastern, heathen hordes – Godless swine.” High Priest Martin hissed during the last part, standing up and glancing towards the other siblings with a similar approving look. Teresa also took this chance to stand up and briefly stretch. When she glanced to the group of retainers she could see that Pieri and Lazward had now joined into their conversation, Jakob and Gunter standing separately from the merry unit.

“Well, Father.” Xander sighed, earning the praising glance of High Priest Martin, “The way things are right now none of us will be able to taste combat in the east. Their blockade is as strong as ever and they’re supported by more bountiful resources whilst and our country is falling back to civil disarray.” 

“In time, my prince, in time. This is the will of our Lord God.” The High Priest said with the utmost confidence, perhaps naïve to the sheer amount of effort it took to prepare an army and country for invasion. The God he selflessly believed in certainly did not seem to be helping the war effort.

“Now.” He boomed, extending his hand to Teresa, and then sweeping it away from her in a motion that was indicative of his desire for her to follow him. “Popess, if you’d be kind enough to follow me to your seat.” 

Without so much as a word she followed him away from her siblings, smiling to Elise and mouthing the word ‘later’ to tell her that she would listen to all of her stories after their practice at the cathedral was done. He led her past the white alter and up another small series of steps to a freshly uncovered throne. It sat within a small alcove, red fabric covered the stone steps and poured from the surrounding walls, each one the wall tapestries adorning the black symbol of Anankos: a curled up dragon with finger like wings, sharp teeth and a flurry of omniscient eyes. 

The throne itself was incredibly shiny, like the rest of the dull coloured church it was black, however its design was less modest and more flamboyant, the carvings depicting all types of draconic imagery. Its top was spiked like the ridges that sat atop a dragon’s back. The arm rests came to a clawed end and she could just see the faint trace of marks indicative of scales along the entire object, almost as if the floor’s giant scales had congregated into a smaller formation. Besides the throne and along the stairs candles produced a pure, ambient glow, compelling her to sit on the ancient object.

But perhaps the greatest thing about the chair was the giant rock that sat beneath it. Legend said that it had fallen from Anankos, an egg from the constellation in the sky, given to his blood children to look after and tend. It was claimed that one day the person that sat upon it would ‘hatch’ and become Anankos’s new heir. They would herald the return of the dragonkin, Manakete, and breed to produce a freshly blooded royal line, a strong one that would inherit and build a world of their own.

Such a momentous event had not happened yet; the world had not seen the famed Manakete for many generations, to a degree she did not believe that they had ever existed. Instead she was more inclined to believe that they were just dragons whom had died out due to the advances of mankind and poor breeding. The High Priest seemed inclined to believe that her pointed ears and ruby eyes made her one of the dragonkin, the first child of Anankos to come back and inherit a crumbling world, to birth the rest and start the line anew. Yet she had not come from the stony egg nor had she ‘hatched’, she had come from the tender flesh of her mother’s womb, a human just like father. 

As she sat down on the surprisingly comfortable throne, compelling herself to sit with closed legs like a lady should, she frowned. If he believed her to be the dragonkin, then he would probably expect her to breed with her own half-brothers, more likely Xander. She repressed the thought and scowled with disgust, acknowledging that such a thing would never happen or be expected of her. She was aware that there was a lot of incest within the royal line in order to keep their Dragon Veins and blood as pure as possible, however a lot of that incestuous activity had fallen to first and second cousins rather than direct siblings. 

She watched High Priest Martin usher her other siblings over to where they would be seated, to the left side at the front of the perfect block of pews, but could not make out what he was saying to them. She cocked her head with a little confusion as she looked at the seat next to Elise, a space that should not have been there, wondering whom else would sit beside the royal siblings. Slowly she spread her legs and assumed a similar position to the way father usually sat, resting her cheek onto her right palm in a lazy and almost disinterested fashion. Whilst the High Priest conversed with her siblings, instructing them of their roles and when they would have to take part, she glanced down at the blue veins crawling just beneath her skin. 

Teresa had not been able to use her draconic abilities yet, only Xander and Camilla could so far, yet she knew this power was coming. The awe striking ability to destroy mountains, create vortices, birth storms and boil rivers into clouds of steam sent a tingle down her spine and warmed her gut. Such power was a testament to her bloodline, however it was limited. In the past her kin were said to have free control over these abilities, but now they were tied to the earth, only capable of summoning such tremendous power where it was naturally swelling beneath the soil and stone. 

Not only that, but father had once told her that everyone had their own element that they seemed to have the most strength with. Xander looked more inclined to control the earth and manipulate the soil whilst Camilla’s fiery nature appeared to project into her abilities to warp fire and melt stone. She wondered what her ability would be, would she be like her siblings or would she develop her own strength? 

She considered the royal family in the east, the Shirasagi line, and pondered on how they had come across their Dragon Veins, repeating the Nohrian story in vague images in her head. Supposedly they had inherited these abilities when one of the Nohrian princes who had fallen in love with a harem of eastern noblewomen. He had bedded them all and produced a plethora of children from them. When his father had heard about this misdoing he had sought out the heirs and killed them all along with his own son. However, he had not been careful enough and after the Nohrian Kingdom had lost their first war with Hoshido, the young prince’s descendent married into the Hoshidan monarchy, allowing the Dragon Veins into their line. These abilities later spread to the sovereigns of the Izumo Duchy. That was the Nohrian account of events of course. 

She was aware that the Hoshidan people believed that they were descended from the less war like light dragon, the opposite to Nohr’s dark dragon Anankos, and that the draconic ancestors from both sides had killed each other, leaving only their royal offspring behind. Despite the Nohrian belief that peace would only be reached when the sinful fruits of such lighthearted breeding were wiped from the earth and the heathens suppressed, the Hoshidans believed that both sides were needed to promote balance. Her brows furrowed in concentrated frustration, she could not say that she understood, as far as she was aware one side needed to dominant and control all other parties under a mutual belief in order for peace to be achieved. 

“Right, Popess-“ The High Priest begun, being quickly interrupted by Teresa’s own question, her legs snapping shut so that she was not sitting too immodestly before him. 

“Who’s to be seated next to Elise?” She asked, drawing her attention to the man that stood at the base of the small flight of stairs, leaning away from the throne so that she could sweep her hair over her right shoulder.

“Did Prince Xander not tell you?” He asked, only forcing her to grimace with confusion and furrow her brows, reconsidering their conversation whilst they travelled here.

“On the way here we only talked about our siblings and then moved onto talk about swords and training.” She acknowledged.

“Oh. T-then you are not aware of your father’s newest child?” He stuttered, appearing nervous to tell her of this news.

“No!” She exclaimed loud enough to warrant the attention of Xander whom jumped from his seat and quickly began pacing over. 

“Your brother has been working tirelessly around Nohr lately – doing all manner of work for your father, my lady. It seems that he forgot to tell you.” High Priest Martin hastily explained as Xander came to a stop by his side, Teresa spoke before he had the chance to.

“We have a new sibling?” She asked, her mouth falling slightly agape and heart thundering in her chest, fuelled on pure surprise. 

“Oh … yes.” He grimaced, brushing back some of his hair and placing his free hand on his hip. “He’s very recent, only a few months old now.”

“Why was I never informed before this point?” Teresa gasped, her heart beating harder in her chest than it should have. She had known many of Garon’s other children before they were massacred; she had even seen the birth of the three whom had been born after Elise, all of them now dead in the ground. 

“Father wished to keep it a secret up till now to protect her – they won’t even live in Windham until he has come to an age where he can defend himself. Only father’s most loyal guards have been assigned to them, even hexed so that they are incapable of harming either of them.” Xander explained; he seemed to be growing more exhausted by the second. 

“Who exactly are ‘they’?” Teresa asked, still shocked by the news.

“Emily Dane of Fowler and father’s new son Rickard, the latest child to grace the Krakenburg line.” Xander explained calmly, his composure seemed to radiate and allowed her to relax a little from the shock, still prompting her next question.

“But how? I thought that father was coming to the very end of his childbearing years – Elise is fourteen years old! The last child before this one was born six years ago!” She quietly exclaimed, glancing over Xander’s shoulder to see her other siblings watching.

“Well, apparently father was blessed and managed to bear another child. Besides, he’s not of an age where he can’t produce children anymore, it’s just more difficult for him now.” Xander sighed, rubbing his temple with the free hand, the other still perched on his hip. He ascended the stairs a little and leant down to whisper in her ear, possibly embarrassed to speak the next part loudly in front of the High Priest. “You do know father still actively beds his concubines?” 

“Yes, of course.” She whispered back, brushing aside any vague thoughts or opinions of her father’s insatiable libido. 

“Do you remember, Emily?” Xander asked, leaning away and resuming his normal tone, remaining by her side.

She took a moment to shuffle through her memory, trying to recall any of father’s previously vast harems for any sign of the woman. Drawing a blank she shook her head, shrugging her shoulders.

“She’s the one with the vibrant red hair, green eyes…” Xander began explaining, prompting her to purse her lips and peer more into her memories of women clad in black and feathers. 

“Was she the very shy one?” She inquired, vaguely remembering a woman of a similar description who seemed quiet and to herself, she had only really talked to father if she remembered correctly. She still could not form a proper memory of her face.

“Yes, she was quite shy.” Xander confirmed, brushing his hand through his hair again and releasing a heady sigh at the end of the sentence. 

“I vaguely remember her, but not in great detail.” Teresa admitted, earning an understanding nod from her brother. 

“You’ll meet her soon enough, she’s sleeping in the wing next to you, she’ll have to travel through your corridors to get there, or Leo’s on the other side.” Xander said before continuing, rubbing his eyes. “Sorry to shock you like this, I got so caught up with our conversation riding here that I forgot.”

“That’s unlike you.” She whispered, watching her brother rub away the sleep that wanted to grip his eyes, flinching a little with his sudden but sharp inhalation.

“Like I said earlier, sister, I’ve been very busy. Learning this news is the least on my plate right now.” Xander mumbled; all she did was nod in understanding.

“Ok.” She sighed, ready to let the topic go for now for her brother’s sake, the news still violently competing for attention in her rushing mind. “I was just a little shocked is all, to say the least this is unexpected news.”

“Yes.” Xander agreed, turning as the High Priest began to come up the stairs. “And soon the whole of Nohr will know if whispers of and rumors have not started already.”

“I beg you both your pardon, but we really must get on with rehearsal now. My lord, may you please take your seat. I’m sure that on the way back to Castle Krakenburg this evening you will have plenty of time to discuss more with your sister.” The holy man pleaded politely, earning a sincere nod from Xander.

“My apologies, Father.” Xander sighed before turning and walking back in the direction of her siblings. 

“Now!” High Priest Martin begun, first detailing that her ceremonial clothing was already in her room in Castle Krakenburg along with the women of the clergy whom would help her get dressed. Teresa started to push the shocking news of her newest sibling to the side of her mind, inhaling the scents of the surrounding candles and incense to remind her of her tasks. He detailed her roles in the ceremony and forced her to practice relentlessly until every movement was refined and perfect for the audience that would be crowded amongst the pews tomorrow afternoon. Once satisfied with her performance and her confidant public speaking he moved on and made her siblings practice their smaller parts.

Whilst she watched their rehearsals on clergy members whom were filling in for Lord Hans and their sister she pondered how she felt, now that the waves of shock were receding within her. She mostly felt confused about how to treat her newest sibling, especially due to the fact that she was so well adapted to living and interacting with her other four brethren. Yet she also felt open to the idea of a new brother, wondering how he would grow and feeling a strange urge to dote on him like she had with Elise, pondering how they might interact in the future. 


	3. The Red Headed Concubine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Teresa returns to Castle Krakenburg for the evening she gets the opportunity to converse with the jittery mother of her newest sibling.

# ~A Minute Before Dawn~

#  \- Blooming Moon Arc \- 

### Chapter Three: The Red Headed Concubine

After a long period of rehearsals she had finally been freed from the clutches of the Cathedral, at least until tomorrow morning when she was required to attend earlier and practice her roles once more. She was supposed to lead those attending in song and cringed with the thought, her voice was not bad but it had little appeal to it, she did not have the range or training of a professional performer and felt sorry for those whom would have to follow her lead in hymn.

Her small party had travelled the short distance back to The Prong together and had then headed around God’s Ring to the northeast, dividing into two groups to descend from behind the Military Parade grounds. From there she had conversed with Elise and watched as they descended into the bowels of The Hole’s pit by the lift mechanisms that had been set in place. Her younger sister quickly explained all of her new training, the new friends that she had been making and all of the details in between in one breathless wave.

Whilst she had been listening she had watched their descent towards the foreboding castle, the view was spectacular, as if entering into the mechanical core of a stagnant clock. The inside glistened a remarkable red, the shade almost turning her younger sister’s hair a ginger every time they were granted a view through an arched gap in the side of the lift. Surprisingly, Arthur had remained reasonably quiet the entire journey, almost as calm and content as their horses whilst they sunk deeper into the ground. 

The glimmering red and black theme throughout Windham was the most profound here as the lights seethed amongst the ancient stone. The peak of father’s vast palace came into view, her home even if she was semi-confined to her Citadel. She had been forced there by her father to preserve her chastity and see that she did not get too distracted by the other men around her. As a result most of her staff were female or men beyond the age of bearing children, Jakob being a rare exception along with another six butlers, two of them eunuchs. 

The cataclysmic event that had seen her moved to her Citadel outside the city bounds, as well as her exclusive private training schedule, had been when Silas had snuck her out for a picnic in farmland tucked within Windham’s outer rings. It had been a day with sunlight and the newly growing wheat had dwarfed them where they had been sitting eating fruit, bread and cheese. They had been good friends for a long time leading up to that; too acquainted for father’s comforts, especially when Xander had caught them there, Silas leaning down over her, kissing her. 

A small smile always lingered when she recalled the memory, one of her best, the warmth and attention she had felt from Silas at the time had been something she had not experienced again. However, any feelings she had once had for him were now behind her, they had been parted for too long now. But she was not above admitting that she missed his presence as her friend, the kind aspiring Great Knight whom did his best to listen and help all around him. 

When father had found out about their fraternising in the field he had been furious, untrusting of her and the young men that surrounded her, leading to her isolation inside of the Citadel. Whilst she had been sent to the north Silas had been sent way down to the south, to the border patrol under the newly appointed General Daniela to train under the Great Knights there. At first she had been loathing of her father and spiteful that he would single her out like this, separate her from her siblings. After time she had become accustomed to the isolation and the semi-regular visits of her siblings and their peers. She also found that she learnt a lot better one on one then as part of a group and began to prosper under Gunter’s guidance and sword. And after even more time she was free to travel between the Citadel and Castle Krakenburg whenever she wanted provided that her father was informed first or invited her. 

Once they had arrived at the level permitting entrance across the narrow bridges to Castle Krakenburg, they had all handed their horses over to the stablehands and waited for her brothers and their party to descend. When they were all united they had crossed the bridge to the golden eastern gates and then into the magnificent castle. Looking up to the peaks of Castle Krakenburg always made her nauseous, the stars in the sky seemed too small to make out with her eyes and the brighter ones were masked by the pervasive red light. She had always been too frightened to look below from the bridges, she was not afraid of heights but she was not fond of them either. It did not help that the bridges allowing access to the castle were too narrow for her liking. 

Xander had escorted their group straight to her wing once they had entered, taking some back routes to get there and denying her the magnificent view of the Great Stairwell. They had relaxed in the eastern library located along the inner wall of Teresa’s wing and talked whilst waiting for Camilla. When their sister had sent her handmaidens to apologize because of her absence due to her duties, they had supped together. After supper and a long conversation they gradually parted ways, each one keen for a decent night sleep. Elise was the last to depart, leaving Teresa buried amongst the great library filled with hordes more poetry books than hers. 

Felicia and Flora had attended to her hair whilst she read and they had read aloud to her when other handmaidens had begun painting her nails with a black vanish she rarely used. It was late at night, just when she was beginning to feel tired she heard a series of footsteps from outside of the library, in the hallway of her wing. 

Intrigued, Teresa turned around and leant over the top of her plush cream chair to stare out the opened doors, watching a small unit of armoured Brave Hero and Sorcerers escort a woman with red hair in the direction of Leo’s quarters, a small bundle in black silk huddled tight in her arms. Without so much as a word to her handmaidens and staff she hastily placed the book down on the chair and quickly scurried out the door, jumping over the arm of the delicate object in the process.

In pursuit of the speedy woman and her cohort she burst into semi-jog once she had turned right out of the library doors, silently stalking the fleeting mass travelling down the straight corridor. When she had covered a good distance she decided to make herself known, otherwise she risked being mistaken for an aggressor or assassin. Teresa did have a nasty tendency of quietly sneaking up on people and surprising them for the worst. 

“Hail.” She called, the party quickly turned to look at her, most of them immediately bowing and acknowledging her. The red headed woman paused and reluctantly turned, obviously shy and suspicious of the voice that had stopped her. 

“Princess Teresa.” The soldiers acknowledged in unison, many of them eyeing her distinctive hair to recognise her. 

“Lady Emily?” She questioned, drawing a little bit closer to the woman.

“Please, stay where you are.” She murmured, clutching little Rickard closer to her. Teresa stopped in her tracks and took in the woman’s soft face and jade eyes, her hair done up into a high bun, a few strands curling down in front of her ears. She was as tall and curvy as Camilla, a common trait for the Danes, however she was exotic since most of them possessed lilac or black hair and grey or purple eyes. Emily’s traits were more commonly found in the Fowler territory to the south.

“As you wish, my lady.” Teresa agreed, giving her a formal title to show respect for the woman. Now that she looked harder she did not appear to be much older than her own age of seventeen. She recalled that her father liked his concubine’s young; he believed that it gave him a greater chance of bearing strong children. Her face was still round and kissed by youth without a single blemish or imperfection, eyes glassy and large yet skittish and fearful. 

“Why do you stop me here, princess?” She asked, refusing eye contact due to her shy demeanour. 

“I just wished to see who the mother of my most recent sibling is …” she began, watching the woman squirm under the apparent uncomfortable weight of her relaxed gaze. “… And to meet my younger brother.”

Emily huddled her son closer to her, Teresa quickly caught hold of why she was behaving so protectively and jumpy. 

“I suppose that you think that I might mean harm to the child.” Teresa began, doing her best to seem un-intimidating. “I would never harm my sibling, or his mother.” 

“You wish to hold him?” Emily asked, her voice almost a whisper, jumping ahead to an action Teresa had not even considered yet. 

“This wasn’t my intent, but if you would let me I’d be honoured.” She smiled, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. She could recognise why Emily was so protective, many concubines and royal children had been killed by their competitors, the worst case being the Krakenburg Massacre, an event Teresa was involved in, frightened for her life. 

“It’s ok if you don’t want to let me hold him, I can understand after everything that’s happened to our family over the years.” Teresa began, smiling sadly at her counterpart. “I lost my mother because of the feuds.”

“Dahlia.” Emily whispered, piquing Teresa’s interest.

“You knew my mother?” Teresa queried, raising her eyebrow. Emily seemed too young to have been a concubine to Garon at the time of the event; if she were Teresa’s age she would have only been twelve.

“How could I not? She gave her life and the life of King Garon’s unborn child to protect you…” Emily trailed off, looking down to her own child and rocking the burbling bundle in her hands. 

“Yes.” Teresa sighed, feeling a sweat grip her brow and her heart begin to beat harder in her chest, the memories trickling back. The sudden jump of Queen Ecatarina, the murdering going on around her, the locked doors. She had huddled alongside Elise and had brandished a fruit knife to try and protect them from the other concubines and opportunistic children. Yet at the end of the day it had been Queen Shenmei that had saved them both, killing the other Queen and dying minutes later due to an incurable and potent poison. Like Elise she had suppressed the memories, their father insisting that they keep them so that they both knew just how perilous their lives really were. 

Both had done well quelling it, yet they both handled the strain from those traumatic events in a different way. Teresa tried her best to use her fear to become competent with swords and hand to hand combat; Elise had gone the opposite way. In response to the traumatic stress her younger sister had become more sweet and childlike, almost as if she denied ill intent lurked around the castle. 

Maybe she acted that way so that if she were targeted her assailant would hesitate due to her innocence, depending on the fact that they may not be able to kill somebody as virtuous as her. But her façade had become like a parasite, it had hungrily consumed her younger sister and had allowed her to become lost amongst the pretense, adopting this persona as her true one. 

She could not recall a time when Elise had drastically changed; it just seemed to happen without too much notice, most people seemed to immediately adapt to her behaviour and accept it as the way she had always been. Sometimes when she saw her younger sister fooling about she would try to think back to how Elise may have been before the event but could never properly recall, as lost in her sisters convincing charade, as Elise was herself. 

Teresa’s face must have looked pained as when she made eye contact with Emily she could see sympathy in her eyes, the same gaze that appeared to adorn all mothers – old or new.

“My apologies for bringing up bad memories, my lady.” The red headed concubine whispered, she seemed less fearful now, perhaps moved by her subconscious display or discomfort.

“You’ve done no wrong.” A soft smile gripped Teresa, “These things have happened now and sleep amongst the ghosts of my past. I’ve moved on as best I can, but I can’t help but miss my mother every day.”

“I …” The woman began before biting her lip and woefully shaking her head, looking down at the child with a pained expression. “I can’t even begin to imagine the pain of losing a mother.”

“Nor I a child.” Teresa added, gazing at the sleeping black bundle, hearing a burble from her little brother’s infant lips. The sound made Emily smile, a change of face that looked warm and loving, yet unsure of what was to come for them.

“I would never wish what I’ve had to suffer through on anyone else. I miss her a lot, as do my sibling’s with their mothers.” Teresa explained, earning firm eye contact with the woman for the first time in their conversation. 

“I think that losing any parent would be terrible. I feel for the children in the slums who are orphaned, or worse, thrown away like sewerage.” Emily meekly sighed; her body language seemed to relax ever so slightly, shoulders dropping as if relieved of some weight or uncertainty. 

“The worst fate of any.” Teresa agreed.

“I hope for a day when we will have enough food to support all the families in Nohr. A naïve thought, I know, but at least it’s a good hope.” Emily confessed, her tone growing a little more confident but still remaining very docile. 

“Well, maybe soon it will be a reality.” Teresa smiled, trying her best not to flash her pointy canines. “With the invasion of Hoshido there will be plenty of food for the Nohrian’s. We already know that the Hoshidan’s produce enough to freely grant most of their peoples double what Nohrian’s are forcibly rationed.” 

“Yes.” Emily agreed, her finger moving to play with a tiny hand that had reached from the ebony silks. The baby began to move more violently and released a series of high pitch squeal that hurt Teresa’s ears.

“I’m sorry.” Emily frantically apologised, lightly rocking her child to try and settle him. Her face was unsure and worried like that of any new mother.

“That’s fine.” Teresa asserted, briefly turning her head around to see Felicia and Flora standing a small distance away, her sleep clothing and some other items cradled in their arms just like how Emily embraced her baby. 

“Maybe he’s just getting tired.” Teresa continued, beginning the process of ceasing the conversation.

“More likely hungry.” Emily chuckled, “He’s a big baby - likes his food a lot.”

“My mother always said that I was quite small yet claimed that I ate thrice the amount her horse ate – nursed her dry!” Teresa laughed, drawing a grin from the other women. “But look at me now! All the food I ate as a child did nothing to make me tall like father and the rest!”

They shared a moment laughing before Emily took a step forward.

“Perhaps you might like to wish your brother goodnight.” She stated, her cautious eyes betraying her relaxed body language. 

“I’d be honoured.” Teresa beamed, taking slow steps toward her.

“You can’t touch him though.” She quickly added, receiving a courteous nod from the teal haired woman. 

“Of course.” 

When she reached Emily’s side she could scent the faint musk of milk amongst the suffocating aroma of lavender, a perfume that seemed to stick well to Rickard and his mother. Emily was right to say that he was a big baby, his cheeks were padded with layers of fat and he possessed a bright and innocent smile. His face was a little wet from when he had been squealing but his happy russet eyes gleamed with a guiltless tinge of red, as if he had never been unhappy in the first place. Thin strands of hair that peaked out beneath the silk clashed with the black, a light ginger colour. It appeared like Emily’s vibrant red had been softened by her father’s natural blonde, a trait that appeared to be strong amongst his children – alive or dead. 

“I guess that he gets to join Camilla and I in the group of non-blonds.” She mused, earning a quick response from the other girl.

“My father had hair like that, but he married my mother from the south that had my shade.” Emily explained, beginning to lean back and away from Teresa, the statement seemed a little quick and awkward. “Your king father appears to have dulled the shade considerably.”

“Yes, I believe that the same happened with Camilla, her mother had quite a distinct shade of purple.” Teresa agreed, watching Rickard quickly grab a strand of her free-flowing hair. His mother swiftly came to her aid and released his tiny grasp before he could pull it. He gurgled with displeasure.

“My mother’s Noltradian blood preserved my hair colour.” She said, brushing the hair behind her so that her little brother could not try and grab it again.

“Yes, the Noltradian do have very dominating hair colours, especially your teal shade.” Emily acknowledged, a strange sense of haste returning to her voice. Teresa took that as her cue to properly end their talk and embraced a pretend yawn.

“I’m sorry.” She mumbled through the yawn, covering her open mouth with her hand, watching as Emily’s eyes widened slightly with the brief flash of her pointed canines. “I had a long day of rehearsal at the cathedral today and I have to be up earlier than the rest of you tomorrow so that I can practice again. Would you mind if I take my leave now? I really should be getting to bed.”

“Oh – yes, of course.” She eagerly agreed, her nervous demeanour becoming more apparent by the second. “I bid you sweet dreams, my lady.”

“As do I.” Teresa smiled, briefly rearing up onto the tips of her toes to stretch, then assuming a normal stance. “I’ll be sure to see you tomorrow at my sister’s reception.”

Emily only nodded and then a small second of silence ensued, indicating that neither of them had anything left to say. Teresa bowed her head to her and then to the concubine’s escort, turning away to stride toward Felicia and Flora. Her handmaidens followed her and waited until they were out of hearing distance to speak.

“How was she?” Felicia curiously whispered, trotting to her side so that she could communicate more clearly.

“Very shy and jumpy,” Teresa began. “Although I can’t say I blame her after everything that’s happened in this family.”

“And your younger brother?”

“Sweet and innocent like every babe should be.” Teresa said before a real yawn gripped her, making her jaw shudder and her muscles ache for the sweet release of sleep. 

“The other maids have prepared the bed for you, my lady. The room is nice and warm for your sleep. Now it’s only a matter of getting changed and drifting off amongst the blankets.” Flora stated, making Teresa feel relieved that the sudden promise of sleep was close at hand. Perhaps her conversation with Emily had been more taxing then she had thought, that or her reading.

“Good.” Teresa purred.

In the brief walk to her room she allowed her mind to slip into a haze about what would happen tomorrow, a fleeting eruption of butterflies discharged in her stomach as she realised that Gunter had not returned to tell her about what had happened in his council with father. 

As she got changed and cuddled amongst the warm cream sheets in her darkened room she wondered what he might have said to her mentor. Eventually slipping into the clutches of a poetic dream before she even had a chance to consider why Gunter had not come to speak with her about the future of her undertaking in tomes.


	4. Salt, Soil and Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teresa is escorted to the cathedral where she participates in Camilla's marriage ceremony.

# ~ A Minute Before Dawn~

# Blooming Moon Arc

### Chapter Four: Salt, Soil and Sky

After a groggy morning, allowing her maids and the nuns of the clergy to pull her hair and clothe her like a porcelain doll, she was finally prepared, ready to sit on her sacred throne for the sake of ceremony. 

Teresa had to admit, her Popess garments were not unattractive, and they had a modest beauty that, with the right poet, would last for the rest of eternity. In the mirror of her room she could behold the stunning clothing. Black fabric drifted over her flesh like water, effortlessly ebbing and flowing against her toned, pillar like body. The cut of the dress was high on her chest, breaking against her pale coloured skin just beneath her collarbone. Her arms were completely covered; the top section made of the same fabric gave way to a mesh like material along her arms and hands, similar to what Sorcerers wore.

The dress bloomed at her hips, losing her toned legs beneath it, even covering her black boots and leaving an ebony trail behind her. Atop her head sat a crown like ornament. Its golden, snaking body encased her head; teal strands flowed between the basket like structure, golden circles and bells dangled down from the sides of the glimmering bands. At the front, descending down her forehead to rest on her brow, sat the head of Anankos, each of his many eyes adorning a different stone, one for each of her ancestors that had held the crown as Popess. 

She had picked the emerald as her stone, the sixth one in the series of gems that finished the top row of the great dragon’s eyes. There was no particular reason why she picked the emerald as her stone, apart from the appealing colour and its prolific mention in her poetry books.

Her face was done simply, the only highlighted section being her eyes, accented by some grey eye powder, bringing out the ruby tones. 

The nuns slipped a thin veil of transparent black mesh over the top of her head, covering her ornament and the bun her handmaidens had carefully crafted. Before Teresa could compliment them on their work a woman who appeared to be the leader of the gaggle of nuns quickly gave her instructions.

“Milady, we must be of haste this morning, it would be best not to keep the High Priest waiting.” The older woman said, the marks of time creasing and dotting her face. 

“Of course.” She agreed, hastily being pushed and directed towards her bedroom door by the accompanying nuns, her handmaidens collecting her gear in a flurry as they tried to keep up with the women of the cloth. She was surprised that they could all move so quickly, considering that most of them appeared to be around her father’s age, yet again, he seemed to move just fine as well.

“Your father has arranged an escort for you, just to make sure that you arrive safe and well protected.” The eldest nun explained, opening the large double doors to her corridor. At this point she was almost entirely surrounded by a swarm of nuns and handmaidens, surely the fleshy wall that already cloaked her would be enough. 

As soon as she stepped outside she paused, trying not to jump back from the sight of the massive man before her, big enough to be a wall of flesh for her all by himself. He stood next to Gunter, and judging from the old man’s scowl they had been in a heated discussion. What it was about exactly she did not know or dare even guess, seeing that the two men were complete and utter opposites they could have been fighting about anything.

She tried to control her breathing, the thundering of her heart in her chest, a natural reaction of unease she always tended to get when around him. Every time she fell under his gaze – beneath his small, red eyes - she felt like a doe in the range of a hunter or a rabbit looking into the eyes of a hungry dog. But she, amongst others, found it difficult to engage what he was really thinking and typically he never made it known.

A quick swallow made her mouth dry as she broke eye contact with him, looking at what he was wearing instead. It was his typical garbs, what Berserkers usually wore but in his own distinct colours as permitted by father. He donned a black and purple gorget that drifted across his massive shoulders, almost merging with his shoulder and upper arm guards. Beneath the gorget twin leather straps sloped down over his board like pectorals, joining the similarly coloured plackart that covered his belly with golden buckles, likely just as muscled as the rest of his hulking body. His gauntlets and boots possessed purple dyed fur just like his Berserker furs that surrounded his hips and log like thighs, his crotch covered by a pointed extension of his plackart. 

Another brief gander to his face allowed her to observe how muscular and rigid it was, well worn by his lifetime worth of experience commanding over his slum men and aggressively defending his unofficial territories. His ginger beard was short and well kept despite his gruff appearance, visually contrasting with his shiny bald head. A deep, nervous inhale made her aware of how he smelt, slightly of salt and sweat but mostly of strong ale, causing her to swallow again, this time in longing for the brew. 

She took another deep breath before addressing him, trying to hide her unease due to his imposing demeanour, massive size and criminal origins. She still hand trouble understanding how somebody so questionable had come into her father’s services. 

“I never would have thought that you would get up this early, not even on father’s orders.” She sighed, continuing to look just beyond his face to try and imitate eye contact. 

“Ha!” He boomed, her muscles began to twitch as if she were to jump back, however she managed to stop the notion in time. “You’re right, I usually don’t get up for duty this early, thank God your father allows me such a leisure. Typically I’m working my way back to the Castle at these times, Princess.” 

She bit her lip to prevent her impulsive tongue from bringing up his reputation for proliferative whoring amongst other things, uncertain that her mentioning it would encourage a poor response from the nuns. 

“Tavern crawling?” She asked as her substitute, summoning a smirk. “How common. Certainly father would be expecting better from the future Captain of the Guard, Ganz.”

“Not everyone is born as noble and chaste as you, milady. Besides, what’s a little fun in my spare time, huh?” Ganz replied, placing a hand on his hip. 

“Maybe that ‘fun’ is costing you that promotion you crave?” She teased back despite the oily discontent wringing her stomach. He only scowled and nodded, obviously annoyed by her suggestion yet unwilling to give up such a lifestyle.

“Well, I do a lot of work for your da’ on the sly.”

“I’m sure such work is not properly conducted in those institutions.” 

“Milady,” Gunter interrupted, earning Teresa’s attention. “Captain Luther is attending to your father’s escort today, he requested that Ganz attend to your safety whilst you are outside of the castle.” 

“I assumed as much.” Teresa acknowledged with clear disapproval, she shunned off the nuns prying grasps to ask Gunter the question that had haunted her thoughts the previous night. “How did things with father go?”

“He wishes to discuss this with you later, milady.” Gunter replied.

“He told you nothing?” Teresa exhaled with frustration, the question bubbling strongly within her mind once more.

“Not a single whisper.” Gunter restated, predicting her next question. “I assumed that you would be preparing and sleeping, so I decided to withhold this from you so that you might sleep better. I hope that this was a good decision.”

“It was a fine decision.” Teresa smiled, allowing the nuns to usher her along, the two men following behind them as if they were both her shadow, and in honesty, at any given time one of them was. Although if she had to pick she would rather have Gunter’s familiar eyes watching her back then Ganz’s prying pair.

It did not take long to leave the castle and once they had reached the eastern stables, where their horses had been kept, they met with the rest of the guard group. For today most of her guards appeared to be Ganz’s men, gruff looking Fighters and Mercenaries mixed with a few haughty Berserkers. They were intertwined with her own castle maids, keenly flirting with her women. A few Sorcerers clung to the borders, already saddled up and studying their tomes with every spare second. 

One of the Sorcerers, a man with dusty brown hair, greeted Ganz and briefly discussed something with him, before earning some approval and mounting his horse. They were garbed differently from the Krakenburg Sorcerers; instead of a black and purple colour scheme they donned a magnificent scarlet and creamy orange tone.

Gunter voiced her thoughts on which individual they belonged to. “It appears that Lord Hans has sent some of his own to help guard you.”

“Yes.” Teresa initially agreed, before voicing another possibility. “That or he’s sending them with us to secure his own arrival. That’s probably more likely, honestly.” 

“I suppose so.” Gunter grunted, mounting Mercer quickly, his horse being heavily armored just like he was. “Takes care of two birds with one stone.”

Teresa nodded and mounted Velvet, Lilith steadied the horse and handed her the reigns whilst the nuns fiddled with the dress, making sure that the item was presentable and comfortable for her, with no chance of exposing any ‘improper’ or immodest flesh. “Fortifies his protection for when he gets there and looks good politically. Makes him look concerned with the safety of his new sister and lending me guard will look generous, clever move.” 

“Yes.”

She waited for the escort and the nuns to prepare themselves, watched with vague amusement as Ganz mounted his behemoth of a horse. Like her father, he needed a giant horse, one that had been special bred to support his height and mass. As far as she was aware these were the only two men in Windham that had horses bred just for them. His beast of a horse snorted and brayed violently, acting just as aggressive as his master usually was, a fitting pair in her own opinion. 

Without so much as a word she began to depart, allowing the escort to crowd around her and form a protective wall, just like how Windham’s ancient fortifications surrounded the grand capital from outside influence and unwanted invasion. 

The ride was mostly silent and continuous once everyone had arrived at the top of God’s Ring, the soldier’s scurrying around the band would stop and pause to behold her, bowing to acknowledge her passing by. She would smile and wave at them or nod should she see fit. 

Once they had left The Prongs she began to truly understand why she had needed the escort. Like any great event in Windham, the public had swarmed to celebrate, most of them likely hoping for scraps of food or rewards from their overjoyed nobility. Many would look forward to the public tournaments in Burkhard’s Arena over the next few days, where food would be distributed to everyone albeit sparsely. Father had told her that it was supposed to be a morale booster and recruitment tool to encourage more to the military, where they were promised three decent meals a day. Distribution of food to the public promoted loyalty, and father believed that currently loyalty to House Krakenburg was what was keeping Nohr together, although it was fragile and needed to be nurtured like his newborn child. 

Her role, of sorts, was to encourage spiritual loyalty, which despite public opinion and how it was presented held some significant political undertones. Keeping the public loyal to the church would keep them loyal to Garon since High Priest Martin worshiped the ground they both walked on; the King and his exalted daughter, the goddess that would hatch and rebirth the line of royals for generations to come. The thought made her grin with amusement, her fangs gleaming in the candlelight. 

Whilst she looked at the people through her flesh curtain she smiled and waved, if people reached out to touch her they were butted back by the surrounding guard. Young women dressed in religious garments would throw flower petals from the night rose, their silky black and slate flakes fluttered on the stirring breeze into the surrounding tumorous crowd. 

Eye contact was important. She would gaze into every face she looked to; it was her way of promoting mysticism and frenzying excitement, making that person in the crowd feel special. But with every face she met she wondered who they really were, was this woman a starving mother that had to prostitute herself by night to support her family? Was that man a thief that was not there to celebrate but to pick whatever he could from the already barren looking crowd?

She looked into the sullen eyes of a young man that simply watched her drift by on her chestnut mare. Was he an assassin waiting for an opportune moment to strike a member of her family down? Or perhaps he did not adore the monarchy like many other people in the crowd did. 

As she approached the stairs, passing the giant column in the center of the square, she realised that High Priest Martin was waiting atop the steps for her, dressed even more extravagantly than yesterday. He wore the same robes and mitre, yet he adorned more gold and jewels on his person. His hands intertwined and resting on his broad stomach, the stars and candle light allowing his jewelled fingers to glimmer as bright as they did. 

Once she reached the base of the stairs she dismounted and ascended to meet him, where once again, his oily lips kissed her web bound hands. After she was acknowledged and bowed to by the rest of the important clergy members he spoke to her.

“Princess, we have a long day ahead of us. Your beauty shall preserve us and may only be matched by that of Princess Camilla.” He complimented, however it rung hollow in her mind. She only nodded with a graceful smile and watched as he gestured for her to enter.

But before she followed the fattened man she turned around and waved to the crowd packed tight into the square, listening to them loudly praise her, watching them bow and throw black petals into the air. Perhaps presenting a front as fake as the priest that preached his noble book, all for the sake of duty. 

# *

So many hungry faces, double the number of ravenous eyes, each one of them plastered and prying over her sisters elegant form. A small smile tugged at her lips, relieved that people were not looking at her, at least for now. 

Like the keen spectators, plethora of noblemen, her family, guards and clergy, her own red eyes drifted to her sister. From where she was sitting it was hard to see her as she knelt upon plush cushions before the Grand Alter, sometimes obscured when High Priest Martin spoke and performed in his role. 

Her luscious lavender hair was done up in a stylish bun, the elaborate type currently popular amongst many high-class Nohrian women. Some of the strands towards the front tumbled down the sides of her face in a way that complimented her slightly childlike features. The roundness of it had always seemed to clash with the maturity of the rest of her body; the full cheeks and somewhat larger eyes made her appear marginally younger than she was. Atop her carefully composed hair sat her onyx crown from father, one that she had earned at Leo’s age through similar trials. It sat like a black bow across her fringed brow, the sides of it sticking out like little ears or horns. 

Like Teresa, her face was made simply, however her lips were accented with a stronger fleshy colour and her cheeks dusted with a thin blush. Her naturally vivid eyes were not accentuated at all, only framed by her long eyelashes. Any other colour on her face might have been enough to bleach the tones from her already pale skin, the darker purple in her eyes was practically flirting with that balance but never seemed to drain her.

Like her, Camilla was dressed modestly, but her curvaceous form appeared to be teasing the attention of many other men in the confined space, mostly those that had been denied marriage with her. The women that scowled or looked on intently must have envied her sister’s voluptuous body like she did, the beauty inherited from her Dane mother. She wore a dress of black silk that appeared to dully gleam alongside the crimson candles, accented with golden artistry and silvery speckles as if she wore the night. 

The High Priest turned to her husband and began to speak, leeching Teresa’s attention away from her sister and onto her new brother-in-law.

Lord Hans Rever, the head of his house, was of a medium-tall height and looked athletic in stature compared with the typical lanky build his bloodline possessed. Unlike the youthful visage of Camilla, he appeared a little more worn, twin creases just starting to mar the sides of his thin-lipped mouth and structured face.

His wheaten hair was swept back so that none clung to his face or taunt cheekbones, instead brushing the top of his angular shoulders. His hair, brown eyes and grey tinted skin appeared slightly dull; unlike a sizeable chunk of the rest of his kin he did not appear corpse-like or spindly. 

He was kneeling down next to Camilla; eyes closed as the High Priest blessed him and showered praises down upon their marriage, praying that it would be both successful and fruitful. Like his beautiful bride, he wore intricate robes of black silk and gold, some of it was highlighted by their family’s scarlet and creamy orange colours. 

She squeezed her eyes together and suppressed a yawn, trying her best not to appear exhausted from the rigorous rehearsals and drawn out minutes this whole scenario demanded of her. Whilst she sat there she could feel a warm throbbing in her lower back that was spreading its gnarled fingers upwards. The prolonged period of sitting in this stony throne made her think that it was causing these uncomfortable nagging pains.

Pushing the thoughts of her pain aside she looked to her proud father, he was seated in a comfortable throne off to the side of the altar, facing it. He was dressed in his armor, black sheets crowned with an almost iridescent gold trimming. Across his barrel like chest a purple sash travelled from his shoulder down to his hip, hiding some of the maroon leather straps that held the magnificent onyx piece together. 

His shoulder armour was smothered by a heavy looking cape made from the most glorious shining black satin she had ever seen and curly white fur. This fur matched the shade of his hair but clashed with its naturally straight demeanour, just as rigid as he tended to be. Towards the bottom of his mane it began to curl, but not as much as Xander’s did. Akin to the rest of his exceptional appearance his beard was thoroughly maintained. It held a perfect black streak down the middle that stretched from the base of his chin but could not reach the end. It was likely that he had re-dyed that steak last night, probably just before he fell asleep. 

Aside from his typically healthy appearance his skin was wrinkled and grey and deep bags clung underneath his eyes, she could not remember a time when she had seen him without those dark circles. Although she could remember her father with fading blond hair and a creamy skin tone, just deforming out of shape with a few creases. 

Just beyond him her siblings and Emily sat well dressed, Elise was looking at Rickard out of the corner of her eye, her cheek slightly blown up with annoyance. 

“Popess.” The nun beside her whispered right into her ear, making the young woman jump with a little surprise whilst she was ripped from her concentrated observations. She was astounded and relieved that she had not cried aloud, it would have been embarrassing, especially in father’s presence.

“Yes.”

“It’s time to approach the altar, if you would stand we can pick up the cloak at your back so that you will not fall.” The nun pointed out, drawing her attention to the overly long cloak she had been greeted with when entering the temple. That was not the only addition. Like the nuns she was encouraged to adorn a transparent, black face veil. It hung down from her crown like ornament, covering the bridge of her nose and falling all the way down to kiss her small breasts.

She took her time to stand, trying to maintain an elegant and discrete visage, revising the next steps in her rehearsal. When the two nuns picked up the ends of the long cape and encouraged her to descend the stairs she suddenly got nervous. A familiar punch in the stomach followed by a warm, slippery feeling and the fluttering of her heart in her neck signalled the start of her minor nervous bout. 

Whilst she descended she could not help but imagine the hungry eyes turning their gaze to her, one by one, any mistake being amplified and seen by somebody. The pressure made her heart beat even faster; worried that she would embarrass herself and her father. Teresa took the time to take a deep breath, remembering that Xander had experienced this problem countless times before. 

Carrots were the key. He had told her to imagine that she was giving her speech to a bunch of carrots. For each face her eyes quickly fluttered over she replaced it with a carrot, trying her best to remove any unsettling facial features that resulted so that every person in the cathedral was just an orange stick. Xander was the only person that remained, his eyes meeting hers and a gentle yet knowing smile lightening his face. She smiled back before suppressing it into a neutral line; he must have known that she was heeding his advice. 

Despite how much Leo teased her for using their brother’s technique it seemed to work just as it had many times before, allaying the quaking nerves in her stomach to a mellow throb that seemed oddly comforting.

High Priest Martin turned to her and bowed before stepping away, signalling the start of her blessings. The holy consecrations reserved for royal marriages, the purest of sanctions from Anankos that she, as his agent, delivered.

She elevated her hands and arms into the air and began her speaking, raising her eyes to the ceiling of the dome to behold the giant bas-relief. 

“Anankos, High King of the Stars, Lord of the Dusk and Conqueror of the Night. I beseech that you look down upon your children on this momentous day where your exalted daughter will be married and bound in your sight to her dearly beloved.” She announced to the sculpture in the ceiling, genuinely imitating conviction in her words. The androgynous figure of their God was surrounded in what appeared to be tree branches, pearly antlers sprouting from the temples of its head. 

One of its ivory hands were raised, forming a sign of blessing by raising its thumb, pointer and middle finger up and curling its index and pinky finger down against its palm. A sash wrapped around its body, spiralling down the lowered arm like a snake.

She looked down, ignoring the crowd and looked to the altar, a plethora of blessed foods and items laid down on the table. She eyed to the right of the table and located the tiny, round loaf of bread. It was a simple loaf despite her family’s status and she knew that it was not deceiving; it did not hold fruits or meats in the centre.

“Arise.” She commanded, watching Camilla and Hans slowly get to their feet and face each other, their bodies slightly turned towards her. 

“Camilla of House Krakenburg and Nohr, Hans of Rever,” she addressed, lifting the miniature loaf up and breaking it in half, a few of the crumbs fell into the rich goblet of wine in the centre. “Accept this bread.”

Each of them took a half and proceeded to eat it, listening to her whilst she continued. “In this you are blessed to provide for you family, your new siblings and parents, your houses, peoples and your future children – inheritors to House Rever and Anankos’s Godly blood.”

She proceeded to pick up a pomegranate from the left side and a dagger from the right, cutting the fruit in half. Inside the juice filled aril in the fruit glistened like rubies, some of it dripped out onto the red altar cloth. She placed the dagger down close so that she could use it again later, instead using her free hand to give them both silver spoons. 

“Accept this fruit.” She instructed, handing the item to them. “In this you are blessed to produce strong offspring that will inherit your blood, lands, peoples and world. May you both be fertile and birth the heirs to the speckled gaze of night.”

Now it was time to address Hans.

“Lord Hans.”

“Popess.”

She cut a thin slice from the meat on the table, it appeared to be a fine cut of lamb that that had been salted and sent up from the south, probably from Lovelock lands. She handed the thin sliver to him and spoke as he consumed it, handing him the silver dagger that he sheathed at his belt, then the tome on the table that he held at his side. 

“As the Lord of your house, your peoples and the husband of Camilla, may you hold strong and resolute in your role as protector. This dagger and tome bless you with the zeal and strength to protect those you have sworn to love or care for until you cease to be no longer. 

“The meat is your promise to provide such a staple to your family and people to the best of your ability so long as you still breathe.” She handed him a small cup of ale that he drank keenly, perhaps to drown some nerves he appeared not to show.

“Finally, may this ale preserve you and your peoples and promise the growths of wheat and horse along your lands.”

She moved to the right side of the table to stand before Camilla, her sister was smiling at her with that small, childlike smile, trying her best not to climb over the table and hug her. In the process she would no doubt smother Teresa into her chest with her strong, bear like embrace.

“Lady Camilla.” Teresa picked up the rosemary and handed it to Camilla, then placing a crown of vegetation on her head. Amongst the delicately crafted crown were flowers, night grass, wheat, branches with berries, salt grass, herbs and other stalks of crops found in Nohrian territory. Sitting in the centre of the crown were a cluster of pearly moon berries, only found within the royal garden in their castle, supposedly the last surviving group of the plant. 

“As the Lady of your house you are blessed this rosemary and crown so that you can care for those around you. It blesses you to nurture, feed and heal your family and peoples as their mother.”

She picked up another small item, this time a golden bracelet with a miniature oak shield charm dangling from it. Teresa held up Camilla’s wrist momentarily so that the crowd could try to see at the small item. 

“Not only will you nurture your broad family, but like you husband you will protect them from all harm until you draw your last breathe. May you shield them from harm, sickness, grief and the throws of war and discontent as the moon shields the stars.”

Before the goblet and the night themed sash that circled around it sat two oak bowls. She joined the couple’s hands, placing Hans’s hand above Camilla’s. From the first bowl she picked up a handful of salt and threw it upon them in a light shower. The salt had come from the sea, a body in which she hoped to see later in life but had read about avidly in her books and poetry. 

“Salt from the Nohrian Sea.” She announced, “It will preserve you both and keep you pure and protected from the evils of this world, the malicious spirits and the people they posses.”

She picked up black soil from the next bowl, it had come from the lands the Rever lived in and had been combined with the soil from Castle Krakenburg’s garden. It had been mixed with a drop of blood from the both newly weds and she had been encouraged to burn it immediately after consecrating them with it so that no blood magic could be used against them. 

“Soil from the lands of Rever and Krakenburg, joined to become fertile and strong. It will grant you strength to persevere throughout trials you may face, however hard or draining.”

In Nohrian-Runic, the language used for tomes and magic, she muttered the word fire under her breath and watched the contents of the bowl erupt and turn to a thin, dirt smelling smoke. The bowl remained entirely in tact and empty, anybody that would have looked into it after this would never have know that a fire had briefly lived inside of it. Then she picked up the silken sash, it was a shade similar to charcoal and had been dotted with specks of gold and silver to represent the night sky, the ends fading to pinks and purple as if dusk and dawn. In the middle of the band the constellation of Anankos had been painstakingly replicated. She wrapped the long item around their arms, to join them together.

“The great Nohrian sky. May it join you, shelter and protect you under the same night and eternally bond you both together as husband and wife, no matter how far you may be parted.”

She took a few seconds to regard them both before finishing her part, relieved that soon most peoples gazes would be off of her.

“These are the blessings of Anankos. May our Lord God and sacred protector smile down upon your marriage and allow it to strengthen his blood and land.”

The couple smiled and bowed their heads to her before High Priest Martin took over the ceremony again, his bellowing, jovial voice drawing the eyes in the room. She turned around and briefly regarded the nuns before walking past them, once her back was to the pair and the rest of the room she sighed and grinned, relieved that her part in this almost theatrical event was over. 

When she sat down she took on a neutral face again, looking to the throng of people who beheld the final section of their ceremony, the part where they would actually be married - all but a single pair.

Once her eyes had fallen on her father she discovered that he had been staring at her, his face a mask and entirely impossible to read. For a second he let his russet eyes stare deeply and unyielding into hers before turning to behold the rest of the ceremony. 

Teresa pondered why her father would have been staring at her; perhaps he was pleased with her ceremonial role, or maybe he was just deep in thought. She let it go and watched as her siblings rose to grant the couple golden gifts, Emily giving Camilla a gift in Rickard’s stead. Most of them were pieces of jewellery or small ornaments that her siblings had picked themselves, the only big gift was a ceremonial dagger Xander gave to Hans.

With her siblings roles finished High Priest Martin concluded the ceremony by allowing them to drink deep from the golden goblet and then kiss. Everyone stood and celebrated when they did so and shouted their congratulations, the newly wedded couple walked outside to the front of the cathedral to greet the bustling crowd as man and wife – the first married child of their King.

Soon after her family followed out. However, she would not exit and ride back to the castle with them. She was required to stay and bless those whom wanted her blessing with wine, and from the already forming line it appeared that she would be stuck there for a while. 

As Teresa blessed each man, woman and child that came before her she recited the same phrase and performed the same routine action as she had done hundreds of times before. Sometimes heads of family or their heir sons would try to talk to her afterwards where she would make a small yet courteous reply, aware of their already bubbling intentions. For now, the hefty eyes of the clergy and High Priest kept them at bay, but tonight she would be fair game for all of them. She would likely be the next to be married off, she would be a good piece to usher away to a Lord for the sake of strengthening alliance or resource acquirement. As Xander and Leo were the heirs to Garon their brides would be selected in a more painstaking way and Elise had already been promised off to the Duke of Chevalier’s son as part of a previous arrangement that he refused to talk about. 

When the noblemen were reaching the end of their line more people began to join, guards and knights that had been patrolling the cathedral, servants and other guests. After she finished blessing the last member of House Nunn she smiled, seeing that one of Ganz’s men had been the first to jump into the line. 

He knelt down to her, his brown hair styled in a similar way to Lord Hans, his movements fine and finessed like that of a knight. After he had been blessed he quietly recited something in prayer and moved on, allowing her to attend to the rest of the line. Eventually she reached Felicia, Gunter and Jakob, the final people wanting her blessing. 

A relieved and exhausted sigh slipped from her lips as High Priest Martin reverently dismissed her. The nuns showed her to the side room and undressed her of the garments, allowing her handmaidens to take over after she was standing almost nude. Tired of talking, Teresa listened as Felicia babbled on about the ceremony and complimented her on her performance, nodding regularly so that she was aware that she was listening. Since she had to ride back to the castle she dressed in simple riding garments and boots and travelled to the stables hidden within the sidewalls, between the cathedral and where the clergy lived, completely sheltered from public view. 

An eager burst of energy clung to her as she mounted Velvet and waited for Ganz and his men to arrive to escort her back to the castle, this time by an underground passage so that the commoners demanding blessings did not mob her. High Priest Martin would conduct a blessing en masse on her behalf. It was an ancient tunnel that smelt of mold and damp rot; she tried not to choke on the pervasive smell whilst she listened to the conversations around her.

When they emerged within the lower, submerged walls of God’s Ring she smiled, keen for a small nap before being thrust into another session of immaculate preparation for Camilla’s wedding feast. 


	5. Of Masks and Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Festivities to celebrate Princess Camilla's wedding are well underway. However, the nagging question of what King Garon has planned for Teresa's tome training tempts her to pursue him. She receives a curious gift from her new brother-in-law, Hans, that tells her a strange story of what may (or may not) be lurking on the horizon of her fate.

# ~ A Minute Before Dawn~

# Blooming Moon Arc

### Chapter Five: Of Masks and Men

Despite the drawn out process of preparing for the wedding feast, dressing and being subject to hours of staying still for intricate hair and make up work, Teresa was excited. Even the reality of being swarmed by a parasitic host of men and lords to try and woo her into marriage was not enough to deter the delight that made her heart flutter in her throat.

Her bun was reworked and tied up again, this time scattered with tiny white flowers and silver bubble like ornaments, making her hair appear like a flowing stream. Her dress was mostly made of a black material that left her shoulders and upper chest bare. Along the sides of her torso a shimmering teal fabric appeared to glow when it caught the light, only exaggerated when the silver linings of the outfit competed to outshine it. 

Along her neck sat a bead of pearls, so high up that it could almost be a choker of some kind. They seemed nearly lost amongst the natural porcelain tones of her skin, if not for the faint pink hue of the item she would not have been able to even see it. 

Like Camilla, her lips had been lightly accentuated with fleshy tones to make her appear a little less pale. Her eyes had been highlighted with black powders in a similar way to before, however more had been used, making them seem smoky and exaggerated. Not that it seemed to matter; her Colombina like mask would see that her eyes were mostly covered anyway.

Once she had put on her mask when entering the massive ballroom she had been instantly transported away. Each family wore masks relevant to their crests. The Danes had masks that appeared human but with vague wyvern like features, the Rever had imagery connotative of the moon and pages from books and the Cutler donned fruits toward the top of their mask and pointed sections like daggers. The list went on further for the rest of the noble houses, great or small.

House Krakenburg, her own house, donned dragons, the only masks that did not resemble humans at all. Although their masks were just labeled as dragons, more specifically they were supposed to represent different depictions of Anankos. Her half mask left her human smile revealed but covered her nose, eyes and forehead with the silver fleshy cranium of a dragon. 

It appeared feminine with smooth lines and expertly crafted cheekbones. Long horns similar to that of a deer’s antlers protruded beyond her head and hair, ascending like a lofty crown. The entire mask was silver in colour and shimmered more than anything else she wore, crimson eyes and teal hair were the only colours that broke it up. Yet she had thought that her eyes would make the mask appear too real, the red with her black oval pupils were still clearly visible from behind it.

Beyond the throngs of people chatting, dancing and eating she could hear the flutter of many instruments creating song. Violins, harps, cellos and strangely accordions being some of the few she could identify over the crowds deep mummer. Sometimes a female vocalist or a small choir supplemented it.

The rich sounding music complimented the extravagant golden ballroom well, blacks reinforced the gold from time to time, but most of the room was glistening the yellow colour in the candlelight. She smiled then, the poets amongst her would see the beauty in such a place, maybe they would write about it being a ball inside of a sun like she was going to. The floors themselves were black as night but amongst the people dancing and speaking and the flickering candlelight it seemed like some strange reflection of the night sky. Similar to a still lake, the people being creatures fluttering beneath its surface and the candles being the stars that clung to its visage like dew drops to leaves. 

Felicia and Jakob, her accompanying servants this evening, held different masks. Felicia’s Colombina mask was of a cream colour and only circled her eyes whilst Jakob’s was a half mask like her own. He wore fruits and a dagger similar to that of the Cutler but also something akin to an axe like that of the Glover, the newer high house supporting the lower one from which he hailed. House Yeoman, she recalled from the many times he had told her of his. 

For a while she was forced to interact with many of the Lords and their new prospective sons, accepting their flirts and tokens whilst pretending that she was invested in each of them. All of this slowed her advance to the adjoined banquet hall where food laid waiting for her to consume. She had not eaten much over the course of the day since she had been busy, with grace she had endured the lack of food but now she felt somewhat dizzy and her stomach ached like the glutton it was.

Once she had reached the guarded border of a banquet table Jakob had gone to collect her food on a spectacular ivory plate, most of them were sweet things that he knew she liked. Custard tarts with berries, miniature cakes, pastries with honey and nuts, lemon cakes and fruits, all of which she began to eat as quickly and lady like as possible.

Whilst she did so her eyes peered around the space, searching for one of her siblings in an endless sea of semi emotionless Volto and Bauta masks. She did see Camilla, however, predictably, she was very busy with many noble women and new family members. Xander and Leo were also occupied when she found them, her elder brother in the midst of a gaggle of young women, her younger talking to Lords sons about what seemed to be magic and strategy. 

Around the room, guards prowled in simple Volto masks, their faces hidden from her own, as were many of the maids and butlers. Simply adorned because they were in fact simple people, an unseen footnote in the page of this event. Many would forget the hard work and diligence they laboured over if they had even bothered to recognise it in the present. Ironically, she was the one to be found and engaged despite her looking. 

“Big sister~!” Elise called from behind her, encouraging her to turn around. Her little sister was dressed in creams and gold which seemed out of place compared with the rest of the room brimming with darker house colours. Yet they fit the house of her mother, a Nunn, in which white tones were prominent on their shield. 

Her golden mask depicted a very young dragon with tiny horns and a relaxed face; it was a Colombina like hers that could not cover Elise’s innocent grin, not that it needed to be covered. Atop the mask and her head sat a swollen, bubble like bun, no doubt selected because buns were in fashion. Two strands of wavy hair travelled between her cheeks and ears and a massive bow was centered between her mask and hair, a glimmering light blue jewel had milky clouds within it, almost capturing the sky. 

“Ah, Elise! There you are.” Teresa cheekily smiled, leaning down to give her younger sister a hug. The girl was all too eager to accept, knocking Teresa back a little with the force of her hug.

“So, do you have any heart fruit for me?” She beamed, rolling up and down on the heels and toes of her feet.

“I haven’t had any.” Teresa lied to tease her younger sister; she could not suppress a teasing smirk.

“No fair!” Elise squealed, earning the attention of nearby groups of nobles, most of them giving them vacant stares due to their Volto masks. “I saw you! You were eating some just a few minutes ago!”

“Hah!” Teresa laughed, signaling for Jakob who stood close by, trying against his usual will not to act impolitely to a nobleman that had mistaken him as a regular serving butler. Teresa grinned and nodded an apology to the masked man as her butler rudely broke from the group to come to her side.

“Jakob, could you please get some heart fruit for Elise.” Teresa politely requested, earning a brisk nod from the man before he hastily departed and gracefully disappeared into the crowd.

“You know Elise,” Teresa began, “Sometimes it’s best to keep eyes to yourself. One day you’re going to see something you shouldn’t and it could end up imprisoning you in a massive web.”

“Ach!” Elise verbalized and sneered with obvious distaste, crinkles rising on her nose and the wet tip of her tongue peaking out. “Don’t start with spiders, you know that I hate them!” 

“And what do spiders have?” Teresa grinned, not letting Elise answer. “Too many eyes.”

“But it was you that told me to keep a look out, especially after everything that’s happened.” Elise dismissively reaffirmed with a dull tone, grabbing Teresa’s hand and leading her through the crowd of people. Teresa could not tell if her little sister planned to take her to a specific person or not. 

“That’s true.” Teresa admitted, keeping in pace with Elise. “You should keep a look out for yourself, but you should also make sure that you don’t see things that can get you into trouble as well.”

Elise remained silent and half-smiled at her.

“You understand, yes?” Teresa asked, unsure if the younger girl had properly heard her over the crowd. 

“Yes, yes…” Elise flippantly sighed, she trailed off with annoyance, letting go of her hand when Jakob appeared before them to give her the heart fruit, small red fruit that grew in the shape of disfigured hearts. Personally Teresa thought that they looked ugly and unromantic, however she enjoyed their cranberry like taste.

When she nodded a thanks to Jakob she saw fiery red hair beyond him, the same that she had seen the night before, done up into a very high bun like Elise’s and tied with black ribbon and netting. 

“Come on, Elise. There’s somebody over there I’d like to talk to.” She proclaimed, leading the eating girl forward by her dainty shoulder. After traversing some of the crowd they reached Emily. She was in conversation with another concubine and held Rickard firmly to her chest; the baby was sound asleep despite the noise. He adorned a miniature Colombina mask around his eyes that appeared dragon like. She waited for the other concubine and their group to stop conversation before she greeted Emily; they bowed to her before they left her with the red headed woman and her escort. 

“Lady Emily.” Teresa bowed her head; the other women did the same, eyeing Elise off nervously through a Volto mask of black and white with wyvern motifs. It deemed her almost entirely featureless.

It intrigued Teresa how much Elise changed within the time it took to say hello to the new familial additions. The girl that had been cheery moments before became agitated and handed the plate back to Jakob, not nearly half eaten. 

“Princess Elise, how does this fine evening treat you?” Emily gently inquired, trying her best to be friendly yet not open, resulting in a slightly strained tone of voice. Without saying a single greeting Elise started at Emily, never changing her gaze and never friendly. The only thing that touched her younger sisters face was a derisive half-smile. 

“Elise.” Teresa warned, the girl tore her attention from Emily and Rickard and looked at her, her brow a little furrowed. “Aren’t you going to greet Emily and Rickard?”

“No.” Elise announced with a cheery tone, completely contrary to her agitated face, turning back to face the woman and baby. Teresa sighed and nodded to Emily, Elise was old enough that she did not need to be forced to do anything. This rude front was purely intentional, she was sure of it and she did not want to get involved in it.

“Right.” Teresa breathlessly sighed, moving the tense conversation along, if she could even call it a conversation so far. “How is little Rickard doing? Sleeping well, it appears.”

“Yes, he’s well.” Emily agreed, turning a little away from Elise, which only seemed to irritate her more. “King Garon had a hex placed on him so that he would sleep peacefully. We wouldn’t want him causing a commotion in here.”

“Makes sense.” Teresa agreed, eyes plastered on his soft face. 

“Did you need anything from me, my lady?” The jittery woman asked before adding on a hasty ending, perhaps not wanting to appear rude. “O-or did you stop by for some casual conversation?”

“I did come with another intent.” Teresa admitted, feeling Elise press up against her side, clutching her arm tightly.

“Oh?”

“I was wondering if you had seen father, I thought that you would be close by his side.” Teresa said, earning a very quick series of nods from the woman. 

“Ah, yes. He was heading towards the seating area in the ballroom. O-or he was, the last time I saw him. I got into conversation with that other woman and lost track of him.” She timidly confessed, continuing to nervously eye Elise.

“Right, then I’d best go find him.” Teresa divulged before thanking her; lastly she leant over to look at sleeping Rickard, away in a world of his own.

“Bye, bye little brother. Play peacefully in that world of yours, ok?” She softly ordered with a faint smile and soft eyes, tempted to reach out and stroke his face. But before she could nod to Emily and dismiss their conversation Elise stood in, her aggressive tone of voice shocking the both of them.

“No!” She bitterly began, trying to pull Teresa away but failing dismally. “He’s not your little sibling, I’m your little sibling!”

“As is Leo.” Teresa frankly asserted, nodding to Emily in a way that was dismissive of her. The woman left with her escort without saying anything.

“No! But I’ve been the youngest since forever! I’m your little sibling!” Elise jealously hissed, her eyes leering at her and contact unflinching. The oily film of embarrassment slightly skimmed over her stomach as she realized Elise’s sudden outburst had drawn the attention of a few people. 

“Elise, stop this.” Teresa quietly snarled back, drawing out her serious, no nonsense tone and bringing herself closer to Elise to make her uncomfortable. “You and Leo and Rickard are all my younger siblings.”

“But he may as well not be our sibling at all!” Elise began before Teresa interjected again.

“But he is. He has father’s blood and that’ll be the end of it, Elise.” She watched as her younger sister scowled, the jealousy almost green on her face, crossing her arms and looking away to the floor. Teresa stood and looked down at her before signaling a nearby butler to approach.

“If you’re mad at me you can go and find Camilla. I’m sure many of the noble ladies will make a fuss over you there.” Teresa calmly scolded, taking a goblet of wine from the tray. She disliked when Elise became like this, outright envy was not becoming of her. Most people babied her when she got like this and did everything to get her to cheer up but Teresa had decided long ago that she would not cater to her sister’s whims. She was growing into a lady, sure she still acted foolish, but when she became this possessive and child like she was sure to let Elise know that she would not give her the attention she craved. “If you want me I’ll be looking for father.”

With that final statement she turned away and began to mingle within the crowd once more, making her way to the seating section where father was supposed to be. After a prolonged sigh she sipped the wine, it was velvety and tasted somewhat like plum and spice, not too acidic. She smiled and looked at the deep purple mixture and its red sheen; ironically she still preferred the taste of ale. To her it felt more honest and homely, simple.

Observing the crowd revealed that Pieri and her Lord father were standing close together, adorning similar silver Pantalone masks that depicted battle-axes. They were talking with the head of house Pyke. Effie stood beside him in a green velvet dress, concentrated on her plate of food, probably not the first or last for the evening. She was eating from a plate of bread, cheese and meat with her bear like half mask slid over her hair. 

Another round of persistent searching revealed Captain Luther standing amongst a crowd of military officials in his simple Colombina mask, only adorning the sigil of the Imperial Guard on his forehead. He was dressed in his usual, Brave Hero armor and his salt and pepper hair was well groomed. Ganz conversed with him and the others, his mask similar to that of his Captain. Yet it would not block out his red eyes if they looked her way, so she turned her gaze away, already feeling uneasy. 

After another few bouts of conversations with lords and ladies and a few more tokens she finally arrived at the seating area where her father was. He looked somewhat bored with the conversation he was involved in; she could tell by the way he sat in the chair. He sat legs apart, bouncing one up and down slowly whilst his balled fist rested on the arm of the chair, leaning against it with his temple.

He had not gotten out of his armour, no doubt paranoid of attack. With the tension festering in Nohr’s gloomy bowels she could not blame him, only now did she feel a little agitated, wondering if armour would have been a better gear to don this evening. 

His mask was the most spectacular out of all of them, gold’s and silvers danced around it and it appeared that each scale had been hand crafted, each curled horn painstakingly replicated to appear like real bone. The dragon he wore seemed riled yet not ready to snap at those around him, perhaps a more war like and unfriendly depiction of Anankos. She did not dare interrupt the conversation, instead waiting until father caught sight of her. He immediately stood and greeted her, almost relieved that she had arrived to give him an excuse to leave.

“Father.” She respectfully acknowledged, daring to plant a kiss on his old dry cheek. He let her before turning around and formally announcing his leave from the dull group. He ushered her away from the seating area and began to speak with her.

“I knew that you would not wait till tomorrow.” He confessed, his guards on duty forming a ring around them, effectively parting the crowd. 

“I just want to know.” She whispered, understanding that they were both on the same page about her tomes training.

“One more chance, that’s it.” He acknowledged, his wizened eyes looked to hers, yet they did not seem angry or disappointed. A small pang of worry tugged her stomach down, was he expecting failure from her now? She decided not to ask.

“Which poor soul will you have tethered to me, father?” She joked to dismiss her own anxiety, earning a throaty laugh from him. It surprised her that he had laughed considering that he was usually so serious. Perhaps the wedding, the alcohol or both had softened him up, yet she doubted that he had drunk much. He was not a man that liked to get drunk, she was aware that he saw the inebriated state as a position of weakness. 

“He’s here somewhere.” Garon confidently asserted, his very tall figure easily scanning the crowds and finding who he was looking for. “After all, he has not failed me yet, I doubt that he would miscarry such a menial task.”

She frowned a little and looked to the hem of her dress as she walked. To hear her training referred to as a ‘menial task’ had knocked some of the wind out of her, what was left and what she had been running on. 

“If this task were menial father you would not have allowed me this many tutors.” She impulsively blurted out, perhaps betraying her by allowing some personal offence to slip out. “Not everyone is as skilled as Leo.”

“Pah!” He grunted, “I did not mean that your training was menial. I had meant that tutoring was a lowly thing to most of these Sorcerers yet they all failed at it. Besides, your newest tutor has an eye for details.” 

“Oh, I see.” Teresa meekly responded, averting her gaze to uncomfortably skirt it along the intricate tiled floor. “Well, I hope that for my own sake he is successful with me.” “I’m certain this time.”

Whilst he lead her toward what appeared to be another seating area she pondered over whom her newest tutor would be, he seemed to want to keep it as a surprise since he had not revealed who it was yet. It also seemed odd that he had selected a male; all but one of her tutors had been female so far.

Their guard broke them through a thick crowd of people to another seating area, this time in the dining hall. A small table was laid out with sweets beyond belief, each one making her stomach gurgle and want to gorge itself on them. Strangely, cups of tea were nestled amongst wines of different types and the seats themselves were of oak and plush purple velvet. 

When the small crowd of people realized that they had approached they all stood and greeted them, her father took his time to dismiss all but two and then commanded their new party of four to sit.

She had only recognized one in the group. 

He was tall with onyx hair that toppled down the sides of his face but was cut quite short towards the back, clashing fiercely with his extremely pale skin. His features were not masculine but they were not exactly feminine either, yet she knew many women at court found him attractive despite his average visage. 

Like many other military commanders and advisors present he was dressed in his official uniform to denote his high standing with Garon. This choice likely a political statement for those from houses apposing him, a reminder of his status beside her father. 

His uniform was that of an extraordinarily high ranked Sorcerer, decorated in gold shoulder pads with an amethyst encrusted into the adjoining section on his chest. Black garments covered his arms and shoulders, as well as a distinct section down the front of his chest; the only items to adorn his chest were a mesh to cover his skin and twin red ropes. Like Ganz, her father’s other retainer, he was allowed to wear his uniform with his own colours, this time the crimson, black and gold of house Cawdor.

Despite his more sedentary lifestyle as a Sorcerer, Nohr’s chief tactician and her father’s chief advisor he appeared quite fit, she could make out the lines of some muscles along the sides of his chest, just sheltered by the mesh but not outstanding, almost as if they were an illusion. 

Golden gauntlets matched the pair of shin guards that he wore, and supported the puffy section of his pants; the windows it possessed showed thighs covered in the same mesh that shielded his torso from the sight of his pale skin.

Crimsons feathers fell resolute from his back and blossomed out beside his neck, no doubt from a rare bird that she had not heard of, likely something native to his northern homelands. 

Even though he appeared like his typical self he did lack one thing, and ironically for the occasion, it was his signature vertical half-mask. For this event he appeared to have replaced it with a more eccentric one, yet it was necessary in order to match the sigil of his house. Life many other people he wore a Colombina half mask that covered his eyes and armoured the bridge of his nose and like her own an impressive pair of golden antlers sprouted from his temples. They were slightly larger and more branched; she was surprised that none of them had been broken. The gold glimmered brightly to make it appear as if waves of sunlight danced on its surface, surely the finest craftsmanship from a master mask maker. The presence of the sun in their sigil seemed ironic to her. Their house, formally represented singularly by the black head of a stag, had seen a Stein woman marry into the main line for alliance, his mother. She had bought the sun sigil up to the icy north where they very rarely received light and his father, their head of house, had worked it in as a permanent part of their crest.

“Princess Teresa.” He courteously greeted with his surprisingly low voice, bowing humbly to her as he had many times before, a poised and formal gesture that was humble and respectful. The woman dressed in similar colours and an analogous mask curtsied beside him.

“I trust that you will not ask to bleed me this night, Lord Iago.” She flashed a toothy smile, receiving a chuckle from both the lord before her and her father. 

“No, your blood for our Faceless is enough to last another few months.” He explained, earning an approving nod from her. She disliked being bled to provide for the creation of the Faceless, a large, ogre like being. Yet it was necessary and had been necessary in their creation for a long time. Apart from her blood she did not know how he or his colleagues created them, and she did not dare ask any questions. It was a secret for a reason.

“Then we best hope that her moon bloods start soon.” Garon monotonously commented, ushering for all of them to take a seat after him.

“I take it that you will be my newest tutor, my lord.” Teresa logically speculated, receiving a pleased smile from the man sitting opposite to her, a confident one.

“Yes, of course. You are as sharp as ever, my lady.” He acknowledged before gesturing to the woman beside him. “However before we continue, I believe that one more introduction is in order.”

The woman sat silent and resolute in her red dress, her charcoal coloured gloves covered her hands that sat crossed in her lap. Some black highlighted the dress however it appeared quite simple. Her ebony mask appeared less ornate than Iago’s and donned small antlers.

Even despite her more plain appearance, her hair was spectacular. It was the same shade as Iago’s and glimmered with the illusion of sunbeams, making her eyes perceive that rays of light were shining and wiggling amongst it. A curly looking bun sat high atop her head, almost as if it were a black sun. In fact, alongside the masks she almost appeared as their sigil – the black stag with a golden sun between its antlers.

Teresa could not see what coloured eyes sat beneath the mask, she wondered if they were russet like the eye Iago presented to the public or if they were a different colour. Finally Teresa took in her red lips, painted a vibrant tone that did not leech her creamy skin, instead complimenting it in just the right way. 

Iago established who she thought the tall woman was.

“Your Grace, my lady, this is my younger sister, The Lady Imogen Cawdor.” Iago introduced, allowing the woman some time to bow her head, her hand had begun to wring her wrist, despite her calm visage and the resolute mask she seemed to be nervous. 

“Your presence humbles me, Your Grace, Princess Teresa.” Imogen spoke, her voice seemed instantly soothing, motherly in a way Emily’s lacked. No matter how much she strained to identify what was different she could not pick out what made Imogen’s voice like honey. Yet, despite that warmth in her faint northern accent, something seemed a little off, the way she delivered the line felt somewhat aloof and betrayed the cordiality she had sensed.

Her father seemed to ignore the introduction, but she could not blame him. As king he had lived through a lifetime of them, this was just another one to add to his list.

“I take it that your brothers did not attend, I have not seen them.” Garon candidly observed, he seemed unimpressed and a disappointed look creased his already withering face. As she looked to Iago she could not help but notice the clash, his subordinate looking younger than he actually was. Iago appeared to hesitate for a second, his face contorting a little bit into an unsure yet analytical look.

“Yes.” He confirmed; Iago seemed calm about it despite the negative political ramifications it had when considering the already dying relationship between houses Cawdor and Rever. 

Her father released a hallowed grunt, as if suddenly tired. “A political shun on their part, no doubt.” 

The way that he had made his statement begged Iago to answer it. “Definitely. Our brothers don’t really seem to care all too much about politics lately.”

“Yes.” Imogen agreed. “My marriage to a Rever was what allowed me to attend this night, yet even then my brothers had tried to bar me from attending.”

“What madness holds them?” Garon muttered to himself before giving a direct order to Iago. “Sought it out. So long as your brothers continue, well, whatever they are up to, we can not unite properly for war with Hoshido.”

“I am trying my best, Your Grace. It is always our own blood that we can have the most trouble influencing, or so I’ve found. Ironic, isn’t it?” Iago chuckled during the last part, her father’s lower grumble joined in. 

“Right.” Garon tiredly huffed, directing the conversation back to her tome struggles. “I’ll trust that you will do a better job training Teresa than her other tutors.” 

“Of course, Your Grace.” Iago keenly nodded, bringing the attention of his sheltered eyes back to her. “I will figure out what is keeping Princess Teresa from progressing no matter what I have to do.”

“Good.” Garon smirked with pleasure, eyes gleaming faintly. He seemed oddly trusting of Iago’s conviction, yet she still felt unsure. Even if Iago was the best in his field, could he overcome what she was doing wrong? Whatever that was. She wanted to have faith, but after so many failures so much doubt made her feel wary. 

“Although, with my already busy schedule I will not be able to train you as much as you might like, Princess.” He explained. 

“That’s fine, I’ll work around your schedule, my lord.” Teresa politely acknowledged with a half-smile.

“I am of lower standing than you, my lady. There is no need to address me as a lord if you feel content to do so. ‘Iago’ is just fine. Especially because I imagine that you will be addressing me a lot.” He humbly justified, she only nodded, slightly surprised by how casual he appeared to hold titles, considering that they were of significance here of all places. Perhaps it was because he was her father’s servant of sorts, her father’s and brothers only addressed him by name as well, or so she recalled. But Iago had a good point, addressing him, as ‘my lord’ would become tedious for her after a time. 

“If this is your wish.” She pursed her lips and graciously bowed her head.

“Not mine. Yours.” He reiterated. 

“So when will you be able to train with me, my-“ she cut herself of short, it would be hard to speak to him in such an informal way after addressing him so formally for so long. “-Iago.”

The man softly chuckled to himself, her half smile softened slightly and an eyebrow raised. She had a feeling that he would find great amusement in her blunders regarding addressing him informally. 

“I will be able to train with you for as long as you please every three days. I know that you rise early, my lady, but the only times I can do are evening and nocturnal sessions. I would probably arrive after most of your staff have gone to bed.” Iago continued to explain, that was not entirely unusual for her. When she was younger and when Xander had began to work more and more for father he had done late night sessions like this. But those had occurred before he just stopped visiting entirely. 

“I’ll have Teresa’s staff prepare a room in her Citadel guest wing for you.” Garon declared; his most loyal advisor nodded.

“Thank you, Your Grace. But I am fine to ride back to the castle afterwards.” Iago civilly declined only to be a little taken a back when Teresa impulsively scoffed. 

“I’m sorry. I did not mean to cause any offence, if I did.” She explained. “Such a trip would not leave you very much sleep. If you stayed in residence there overnight you would be less tired the next day. Please, even the kindest and most hard working lords and ladies are rarely beyond the grasps of sleep.

“I have many rooms in my Citadel, sparing another amongst room in the barracks for your staff isn’t a problem. When you stay over my Citadel might as well be your home, all facilities would be open to you and your servants to eat and bathe. It’s the least I can do for you for even considering training me.”

“You are much too kind, Princess.” Iago began bowing his head to her. “I fear that if I were to decline you, you be persistent enough to make me stay and would likely seek some sort of comical revenge for it.” 

She laughed at the last part of it, covering her mouth in a discomfited gesture. In the past she had not been above punishing those that had declined her with playful jests, however she felt like she had grown out of that ‘prankster’ phase. They were amusing memories, but not befitting of the woman she was aspiring to become. Her father also chuckled but did not address the comment when he spoke again. 

“She is right. If you were to travel there I would prefer that you sleep overnight as well. A tired advisor is not a good one, or so my own personal history dictates.” 

“If these are your wishes I will oblige theme.” Iago agreed, bowing his head dutifully towards his king. 

“When will you be able to start?” Teresa curiously asked, her voice was still a little light from the laughing.

“Tomorrow would not be possible, however a late-morning session the day after would be suitable as I have commitments that evening that must be tended to. But only if this pleases you, my lady.” Iago stated with a growing smile, pleased by the young princess’s nod in agreement. Whilst she was doing so she felt somebody sit down next to her, but did not look. 

“I will not be back in the Citadel by that time. I assume that this training would be within castle grounds.” She speculated.

“Yes. I will find an appropriate place for me to train you.”

“Good.” Teresa nodded, turning her head to behold the man that had taken a seat next to her. The smile that softened Iago’s face quickly died down to a hard line whilst Imogen readjusted her posture so that her back was perfectly straight.

“Your Grace, Princess Teresa.” Hans formally addressed, then turning to acknowledge the other half of their party with a bittersweet tone and forced half-smile. “Lord Iago, Lady Imogen. How are you all this fine, fine evening?”

“Well, thank you.” Garon grinned. He shuffled amongst the plush chair to sit forward, leaning towards his new ‘son’ despite not sharing blood. He wore spectacular garbs of cream, his doublet accented with the Rever signature scarlet colour. His Colombina mask boasted a shimmering silver colour that merged with what appeared to be pages of a tome flying off of his face. He had cast an illusion over himself as she noticed the pages that peeled from his mask often changed to show different things. 

A phrase in Nohrian-Runic caught her eyes, however she could not make out what some of the words meant. It appeared to be some sort of prayer to a herald of light, perhaps something archaic when those in the north and west worshiped entities of elements alongside Anankos. She noticed the word stag and a few words connotative of sickness. 

“Good, good.” Hans whimsically sighed; some movement of his hands drew her attention away from the phrase. Teresa slowly eyed the deck he shuffled mindlessly in his hands, even with her limited training in the magic arts she could feel some force radiating off of them. 

The phrase changed to something else that she had trouble reading.

“This has been a fine evening, my lord. I trust that the wedding ceremony was a spectacular occasion.” Imogen spoke. 

“It was indeed.” Hans contently purred. “It’s a shame that those of Cawdor aren’t allowed inside holy ground. Heh, they must still be afraid of that black blood of yours.”

“Then they have good sense in who they fear.” Iago coolly concurred, allowing a tense moment of silence to weigh down the shoulders of the group. Aside from the surrounding noise, the only thing that she could hear was the flapping of cards between Hans’s palms and fingers. 

“Really now?” Hans curiously began; he slunk back into the chair beside her and crossed his leg, still playing with his deck of cards. “The last time I checked your house is on the brink of falling away into that stark darkness you call home. Your brothers already seem to be coddling up to it as if it were a mewling babe. I was distraught to find out they were not here. What a terrible shun it is – especially when I extended my invitations with the utmost kindness.”

“What a pity.” Iago sassed. 

“Yes.” Hans quickly jibed, his cards suddenly ceasing their noise. “A true shame for you no doubt. You’ve been working so hard to-.”

“Enough!” Garon violently interjected, Teresa frowned at his anger as she did not like when her father’s face was marred with ire, he appeared unpleasant. “Surely you have come here to do more then trade insults.”

“Ah yes, of course. My apologies for this tense display, Your Grace.” Hans sheepishly grinned; his tone of voice now sounding less dark then it did before.

“As for the both of you.” Garon hissed, standing up from his seat. Teresa began to stand but Hans’s fingers tugging at her dress vied for her attention. When she gazed at him he shook his head and gestured for her to sit. “Sought out your issues between your houses. The longer you spend bickering the longer it will take to push our invasion east.”

“Teresa.” He summoned, only to have Hans stand and deny his wish for her to follow.

“Your Grace, I had come here wishing to give the princess a gift. May she stay?” His voice purred. It was only then that she noticed how charismatic his smile really was, almost hypnotic. 

“So be it.” Garon begrudgingly agreed before turning and leaving the area, Iago and Imogen hastily standing to show his departure from their conversation respect.

Now her curiosity was piqued. Within her skull her thoughts frenzied, pondering the endless possibilities of what the gift might be. 

“A gift? For me?” Teresa beamed, looking into the eyes of the mask. The three nobles sat down, Imogen reaching for some tea from an artisan cream and pink cup. Her brother was sitting forward, no doubt watching the every action of the man next to her for any trickery.

“Yes. A small token to thank you for your services during the ceremony.”

“Oh no, my lord.” Teresa modestly sighed, shaking her head from side to side and then taking another sip of wine. “That was merely my role. I’ll have to do the same thing for the rest of my siblings when they marry.”

“Are you sure?” Hans gently goaded, “If you denied I would still owe you a debt of some kind and I would really rather repay it right now.”

The flicking of the cards sounded again.

“All right then, what do you have for me?” She inquired, watching the blond noble lord grin whilst the darker haired one sighed and sunk back into his seat. Hans bobbed his head down towards the cards that danced between his fingers, her own eyes followed, becoming entranced with the seamless rhythm in which they travelled back and forth.

Without warning he let the cards fly into the air, they hovered between them, pausing briefly before forming six neat piles. She could not help but jump with the action; the sudden surprise from being so concentrated on the deck fluttering between his palms had sent her heart racing. Their deep blue backs were facing up towards the gilded ceiling, a solid sheet of colour with a perfect white border. 

“A reading?” She curiously asked.

“Yes, I’m well versed in them. I’ve been acclaimed for them.” He casually remarked. Something about the statement made it feel arrogant, it tugged at a deep-seated distaste within her and almost forced her to scowl. 

“No offence my lord, but I’m not terribly fond of readings.” Teresa confessed awkwardly. Hans cocked his head to the side in thought and after a moment grinned at her and shook his head.

“I promise this will be accurate.” He said as if begging. 

“That’s what all of my other readers have said, yet they have never been correct about the events that occur. The cards have all been wrong about the things that I’ve asked them.” Teresa slowly explained. Many of her past readers had been incorrect which had resulted in her lack of trust for the mystical cards. The deep laughing of Hans and Iago rung true after she had spoken, it elicited a twinge of annoyance within her that marred her face into a frown. She could not understand what they were laughing at. Imogen remained silent and still.

“What’s so funny?” She scowled, listening to the last of their amused chuckling die down, Hans wiping away a tear that had slipped over the mask.

“My apologies.” He light-heartedly sighed. “You must have had terrible readers before – well, if they used these cards at least. You can not ask the cards questions, you are given a reading from what they feel.”

“These cards can’t be alive.” Teresa obtusely observed, feeling a mellow pulse radiating from them, it was almost as if they had reacted with displeasure to her statement. 

“You are mostly correct, my lady.” Iago quickly conceded, a wide grin blooming beneath the stag mask. “Many of these cards are not alive in a strict sense. They react more like tomes, bonding with the life force of their owner to tell a fortune or conduct a spell. Some of the major cards very rarely come up and are considered old and ‘alive’ by avid diviners. Many prominent diviners from the past have said that they have minds of their own and would often appear at random to their keepers until they chose their own master during a reading.” 

“Oh, I see.” She huffed, thinking about the way she could elicit a spell from some of her tomes and trying to apply that to the cards. She did not understand how a card could randomly appear or apparently have its own conscious. “But a tome produces a very physical response in the present. How could some slips of paper gaze into my future and tell me what will happen? And how could a few of those slips be more ‘alive’ and mindful than others?”

“Don’t worry about that for now! Such tales about how ancient decks came to be are definitely not a topic of discussion for a night like this! Relax and enjoy.” Hans smirked, evading her question. His lack of explanation did nothing to build her faith in the cards, with a frown she accepted that the reading would not work on her.

“And now,” He announced, waving his hand over her eyes. A tingling feeling began to massage the flesh behind them, forcing Teresa to blink a few times. “I’ll make the images on the cards move for you.”

One of the six stacks hovered right before her and fanned out, presenting each card like the lusting hand of a suitor, every one vying for her attention.

“I’m giving you the ‘Bouquet’ reading. Start by picking three cards, from this deck.” Hans leisurely instructed. “Tap on the ones you feel the strongest connection with – don’t think too hard, just feel which ones call to you.”

Without thinking she tapped her fingers on three, feeling an electrical surge through her hand and wrist that dulled to gentle warmth and a pulsing beat similar to the sensation of the cards she had picked. Once those cards had been selected the remaining ones that she had not touched trembled away and formed a neat stack on the table.

Before the first cards turned over a heart symbol appeared upon its blue back, amongst that of its two siblings.

When the card turned over it revealed the image of a white haired woman shielding her brown haired male lover from the incoming blow of a sword. She watched as the sword from an unknown assailant swung across the soft flesh of the woman. The horrific image on the card had shocked her, catching her breath in her throat as she watched the woman bleed out. She stemmed her panic as best she could, the scene reminded her too much of the way her mother had died.

No doubt this had been a bad start.

The second card turned over and drew her attention from the man crying over his lover’s corpse. The second card was much prettier and less violent. This card presented a pale, nude man with white hair sitting beneath an apple tree. He grazed on a ruby red piece of the fruit and read an old brown book. The wind softly tussled his hair and the surrounding green pastures.

The next card spun over then, once again another violent depiction that made her stomach slick with a somewhat sickening oil. A man with auburn hair was seen restraining the white woman from the first card, forcing her down to the ground and trying to take her then and there.

“This is all terrible.” Teresa distastefully hissed, averting her eyes away from the cards to the table of sweets. They had looked appetizing before, but after seeing the graphic nature of these cards they suddenly made her want to throw up. None of the cards used in her previous readings had been as vivid.

“The cards are what they are. None are inherently bad or good, it depends on the sequence they show up in and how they relate to each other.” Iago explained from beside her, she had not noticed that he had moved to sit there. He had been as silent as her shadow. 

“Lord Iago is right. This combination is not as terrible as it may seem, my lady.” Hans confirmed, pointing at the cards as he named them, starting from the first and ending with the last. “The Selfless Lover, The Wise Man and The Predator’s Vice.”

“Cheery.” She remarked with the last card.

“Patience, my lady.” Hans politely asserted. “This combination of cards means that, for your romantic life, you will become the object of attention for many men very quickly. However, one will prevail and will win your devotion by acting selflessly, proving himself above the others. The Wise Man is an interesting addition to the mix, I believe that he is trying to suggest that you will be surrounded by men who are intelligent, that or it may mean that the men that seek you will have politics on their mind.”

“Of course.” Teresa accepted, not paying too much mind to anything these cards said. Her romantic life was subject to her father’s whim and whom he wanted her to marry. She would never really have a say. These cards already told her what she knew they would. Many suitors would appeal for her attention on the grounds of Nohrian politics, in fact, over the last few hours many had already tried.

The next stack floated over to her, the other three cards drifted to the side on a sightless current, far removed from the space needed to draw more.

“Another three cards, my lady.” Hans requested. She tapped the three that seemed to appeal to her and the stack of unselected cards quietly floated away to sit atop the other neglected mass. The cards re-arranged themselves in the order that they were pick and after a circle motif appeared on the back of them the first card turned over.

The first card of this set depicted a young girl and boy standing next to each other, both of them with the most vibrant blue eyes and pure blond hair. After a moment they turned to face each other where they used one of their hands to shield the other’s eyes. Once another second had passed they took their hands away and turned to stand the way they had done before, this time their eyes were milky white. The boy picked up a leather ball and tossed it up into the air and the girl looked up, corrected her stance and caught it. It was almost as if she had seen it coming.

Before the sequence could even be finished the next card turned over, it depicted the same boy and girl, however this time they were older, perhaps in early adulthood. The woman was pushed to the ground by the red haired man from the card in the previous set, however, before he could do anything else the aged boy jumped in. Without mercy he cut the man down with his sword and butted him back with his shield, then turning around to help the girl up. 

And then the last card showed its face. It was that of an adult male with the same blond hair as the two children, both of which were back in the card again. The two children turned to the adult man, the girl received a gift of flowers that she hugged, and the boy got something very different. He was slapped along the face, the strike itself made her jerk a little bit. It seemed pretty hard as the boy fell to the floor and began to cry.

“These cards tell your future for your family affairs. The Unseeing Eyes, The Sworn Sibling and The Hand of the Father. Together these cards mean that you are always being watched and looked after by your siblings, who may be protecting you from unseen threats whilst you remain completely unaware to them. The last card is also curious. I take that it means both rewards and punishments by your family may be coming your way.” Han explained with great interest and concentration.

“No.” Hans corrected himself, peering at the weeping child in the last card. “No. The Hand of the Father means that something divisive may cause some members of the family to treat you harshly whilst others will support you.”

Teresa nodded and waited as these cards kissed those of the romance section, skirting away to be outside the range of another haul from a different stack. The family reading was not anything new either. Of course her siblings were always watching her; they needed to look out for each other and protect each other in this family, otherwise one of them could end up hurt or dead. And a divisive event was not anything new; just months ago they had all been divided regarding what Elise should train as. Leo thought that a Dark Mage would be best whilst Camilla had thought a Troubadour. Eventually, after a lot of arguing, Garon and Elise had settled on Troubadour alongside Camilla. Later on Xander had joined them. Personally she had supported Leo; Elise would have made an amazing Dark Mage. 

She picked out two cards from a brand new stack this time. Watching a line form down the centre of their blue backs. Then the first card of that set rotated to face the ceiling.

Another naked woman was presented on this card, tilting her neck to allow the featureless face of an ambiguous shadow close to her. Its hand moved to cover his mouth from sight whilst the other arm wound around her, the malicious free hand drawing its fingers across her lips. When it was done it faded into the background, a magic seal formed around the woman’s mouth at the same time.

The sister card flipped over, presenting two different women to the golden room. They both looked markedly different, one with tumbling snow-white hair, blue eyes and freckles, the other with raven hair, amber eyes and a tan skin tone. Yet they were both connected at the navel by what appeared to be a branching umbilical cord. Their wrists bled together, the pale girl with bright blue blood and the darker with yellow. The mixtures joined together and bleed green down onto the dusty soil where plants began to blossom and crawl from the dull ground.

“These cards will predict your relationships with your peers. Together they appear to be telling us that your friends will be your rock and your primary source of trust. The union of The Devil’s Advocate and The Bloodless Twins means that your bonds will only continue to grow in strength in the future and that you may even birth friendships with the most unlikely of people.”

The cards scuttled away and she mindlessly selected two new cards from the deck that had presented itself before her, contemplating the friendship cards. Once again the reading for them seemed based on generic assumptions rather than truly gazing into the future. Her friends meant a great deal to her, she already trusted them with her life and would even throw herself in front of them to protect them. She smiled with the thoughts of making new friends, Teresa tended to like making friends and acquaintances, and she felt like this was common knowledge amongst those in court. Information Hans would have access to.

After a square symbol appeared on the backs of the two cards the process repeated again.

But this time the first card made her smile, it was a sad, reminiscent smile that pulled a melancholy string in her heart. Teresa could not decide if the card made her nostalgic for happy memories with her mother or if it made her feel like she had been robbed of the tender woman. A mother and young son sat in a grassy meadow, brimming with flowers of different kinds and colours. They both had the same black hair and brown eyes; the mother’s adept hands crafted a beautiful flower crown for her son. When she placed the ambient creation atop the boys head he smiled and jumped into his mother’s lap to hug her, great joy frantic in his eyes.

The second card turned over, as if arising from a deep slumber. It only widened her smile as she took in the pleasant girl. She was very lean and small breasted and appeared to be standing peacefully, brown hair flowing around her as if she were submerged in water or whipped by stampeding winds. Teresa could not tell what made her feel tranquil when looking at the young woman in the card, maybe it was the knowledgeable aura the woman in the card seemed to emit. 

“These cards foretell your success, my lady. And I must say things look like they may be fruitful for you. The Child’s Flower Crown and The Enlightened Girl both seem to indicate that you will find great peace within yourself or happiness from a reward. Not only that, but you will find great acceptance as well.”

The cycle of choosing cards started again. True peace was a difficult thing to achieve and she assumed that she never would. It was in the nature of man to mercilessly peruse everything that they wanted. When she achieved acceptance from father and donned her crown what would she chase after that? Who’s acceptance would she lust after? What promotion, achievement or material wealth would she want next in order to sate herself? And living in the environment of political extortion and murder for gain it was likely true peace would never be achieved. Nor acceptance.

A cross-mounted on the backs of the blue card and the first angrily stirred from its sleep. 

The warm tingly feeling in her stomach that she had developed from the peaceful cards was quickly flushed with the chill of ice water once she saw this next one. Arrows mowed down a woman of pure white, her bleeding form falling down before a similar looking girl she wished to protect. After a brief pause the younger girl, who might have been the fallen girl’s sister, fled. 

The next card was eerily similar. This time presenting a woman with tan skin and foreign features, her naked body wearing only skin markings to the like Teresa had never seen of before. She stepped ahead towards a tall-cloaked man and turned to her young daughter, waving as if to say goodbye. When the adult pair had departed from the card a protective circle formed around the child, keeping the surrounding malevolent shadows at bay. 

“Sacrifice.” Hans stated, “Even though the success in this reading seems most fruitful, the arrival of these cards seems to suggest that you will endure great hardships before achieving it. The Virgin’s Martyr and The Mother’s Sacrifice both indicate that these trials will be harsh on you, that you will be tested and displaced before you are able to find that peace and acceptance.”

“And here I thought that this reading would be a cheerful one.” Teresa’s snide tone teased, Hans paused for a moment as if contemplating if she were joking or being truthful before he answered.

“Reading’s are not always entirely positive, in fact, usually those types are a rarity.” Hans explained slowly, it seemed that her statement had made him unsure of her knowledge in the field. Of course she had expected that the reading would not be entirely positive, the only people who assumed such were children and fools.

“It is always darkest before the dawn.” Iago nonchalantly said. “Like your tome work princess, you must endure hardship no matter how frustrating or unpleasant before you can reach a gratifying outcome.”

“He speaks truth, for once.” The blond lord smirked.

His onyx counterpart remained as silent and neutral as ever.

“Enough.” Teresa firmly reminded. “If you insist on arguing at least wait till I’ve left.”

A moment of tense silence passed before the reading continued.

“This time you are to pick one card, my lady.”

“Just one?” Teresa curiously asked whilst the last stack fanned out before her, each blue backed card drifting on nothing, begging to be picked.

“Yes.”

She picked the first one she saw and watched the last stack form a neat pile on the table. No symbol formed on the back of this card, it just turned over.

This card seemed very different to the rest. Like all the other the people in it were nude, there were four males of differing hair colours surrounding a woman with white hair, no skin covering her chest, instead a hole where her beating heart was visible. She had no eyes; a bandage covered them, and a part of her body was connected to each of the men by different materials.

The black haired man had a long sash of white silk; the end connected to her beating heart was sullied with her blood and bodily fluids. A red headed man held the chains to her shackled leg, the thick iron band looked as if it were pinching uncomfortably against her skin. It was joined with her so high up her leg her crotch could brush against it, especially when she pulled against the mans forceful tugging. 

The next man had blond hair and his rope was tied around her hips, the beige item actually appeared to be burrowing into her lower abdomen, as if he was pulling at the organs inside her. A thin string of golden yarn was connected around her neck and bit into her when the brown man pulled. It made her stomach seize, with enough force he could cut her blood vessels if he was not already strangling her.

Every time these men pulled she appeared to want to come apart, as if they were insolent children fighting over the possession of a china doll. In one forceful moment the woman appeared to explode into parts, the men acquiring their share of her. Yet she remained alive on the ground and without pain, as if she had never even felt the pain.

“Curious.” Hans mused, he paused for a while in what Teresa thought was contemplation and then continued, his voice a little quieter than it had been before. “This is your personal card and represents you. It tells us of how you fit into the grand scheme of this world in the time this reading spans …”

“Yes?” Teresa politely encouraged, an eyebrow arching high above her eye but remaining unseen due to her mask.

“Sorry, it’s just …” Hans began, flexing his fingers like he felt uncomfortable. He was not the next to speak.

“The Blinded Maiden.” Imogen interjected, picking the card up and sitting between Teresa and her brother, her other selected cards ominously drifted away and merged back into the large deck as if they were cowering. 

“This card is a difficult one to read. It’s a card of fate and does not come up often in readings. It can mean many things besides fate: possession, domination, control, lust, and sin. They all sound negative, but they are dependent on the rest of the reading in order to gain meaning.

“What Lord Hans failed to mention is that this card also ties everything in the rest of the reading together. I’d say that in relation to the rest of them this card means that you will be subject to many factors out of your control. From these factors you will have to endure and suffer and your actions might be divisive to your family. Your friends will be supportive of you and no matter how terrible things you will have them to fall back on. 

“Romance wise, I would say that it is likely that you will be married to a powerful figure however not without dispute from other men, all of which will want something different from you. Of course this is logical speculation, but the cards themselves sometimes tell simple truths. This in itself may birth the trials you will have to undergo, or it might be something separate to it. Only time will tell.

“If Lord Hans’s judgments are correct, whichever man gives so much to win your affection may in fact be your reward, or he might spur you on to achieve whatever peace and acceptance your innermost self craves, even if you do not know such lusts at this time. 

“Finally, I believe that this card will represent your coming of age into a state of mind connected to your aspirations. Maybe you will progress from a sense of naivety into something much greater and more aware of the world around you, the plight of others and the lands beyond Nohr. But I think that this will only come to pass if you overcome these trials and if you are not ripped apart during the process.”

The silence around her was absolutely deafening. The sweet moaning of the violins was gone, the seething chatters in the room and now Imogen’s voice as well. All Teresa could do was turn to look at the woman, unsure of why she was so taken with what she had said, especially because she typically did not believe readings. But something about what Imogen had believed commanded something different to when Hans had spoken. Her resolute eyes seemed more confidant than his, but when she made contact with them, through the mask to their rust interior, she watched them soften and turn away. 

“That was quite thorough.” Hans scornfully sighed, massaging his temples as if trying to dismiss the discontent in his posture. It seemed to Teresa that Imogen had made him look incompetent; she began to wonder if his uncomfortable posture was actually hiding feelings of ineptitude or embarrassment.

“I still feel disinclined to believe what was said by either of you.” Teresa stated to try and diffuse the tension between the lord and lady. After she had spoken she winced a little, wondering if these words would cause offence to the both of them. “Not that I meant to cause offence, I am just untrusting of such things after so many incompetent readers.” This time she sighed, pondering if her sudden uncharacteristic clumsiness was making the situation worse. With a sparing glance she looked to Hans, his eyes appeared to have darkened considerably. 

“No, no. There has been no offence, my lady. Not by your hand anyway.” Hans’s brooding tone bit into what he said, making her skin crawl and her muscles want to jump up and leave. Yet she was frozen, she knew that if she were to excuse herself would cause them all great offence. Begrudgingly she bit her lip and decided to remain quiet unless she really needed to speak, allowing her blackened nails the leisure of biting into the fabric of her space in the chair. 

“Offence?” Iago chuckled; he shuffled on the seat to lean over his knees, giving him a greater view of his apparent adversary. “I believe that my sister did you a great favor. She finished something you did not have the understanding to conclude.”

“Iago.” Imogen timidly mewled, sounding as if she were pleading with him to stop. Teresa was not beyond noticing that she was squeezing her sibling’s wrist to no avail. 

“Favour?” Hans snarled under his breath, also leaning forward to engage the darker man, as if accepting a challenge. “Listen here, your sister did nothing. She rudely interjected in my gift to our princess and made herself look a fool.”

“If my sister is a fool, than you are without a shred of mind at all.” Iago contemptuously sighed. “She stepped in because she knew the meaning of what was presented, if you had know there would have been no need for her to finish this for you.”

“She admitted that the card was hard to read.” Hans stated, “It merely took me longer than her to grasp its significance.” 

“And you did not think to interrupt her and take your reading back?”

“No. I would not show her the same rudeness she just showed me.” 

Iago laughed at this, a low purr that sounded calm and menacing. It dripped with something chillingly dark that was in stark conflict to his sweet smile. 

“Yet you would call her a fool. I would think it the height of impoliteness to call a noble born lady a fool or insult her intelligence. Is this the way you Rever really think?”

“I-” Hans began before Iago cut him off, it seemed like it was done on purpose.

“I’m sure that you will win no favours from anyone if you were to speak of your new wife this way. Especially from King Garon, I’m sure that he would not take too well to finding out his daughter was slandered in such a way.”

“My wife is not foul like you northerners are.” Hans spurned; he seemed to have calmed down a little, the darkness vacating his eyes.

“But Princess Camilla is of northern stock, in fact, one could argue that the Dane are located even further north than my own family. Does this make her foul?” Iago goaded, matching Hans calmness. To an outsider walking past them it might have looked like they were having a conversation as peers, philosophers talking about their understandings of the divine or other things.

“Is it your wish to try and sully my reputation in front of my new sister? I would expect no less from the likes of your kin. You all should have taken the snake as your sigil.” With every word she began to feel heavier, her window for leaving this conversation was now closed. She was stuck there until she was granted leave.

“No, this was not my intention. I was merely explaining why my sister was assisting you when you interjected and insulted her dignity. I expected much more courtesy from the likes of your majestic house.” Iago explained whilst his sister looked away, seemingly staring into a world of her own as if to escape the tension. 

“Besides,” Iago continued. “Teresa’s old enough to form her own opinions without the need to bait other people. I’m sure that she has already decided what she thinks about the both of us already.”

Both men looked to her, as if expecting an answer.

“I … er…” Teresa awkwardly mumbled, crumbling under their sudden gazes. Xander’s carrot advice did not seem to be helping in this scenario.

“See what you’ve done?” Hans sighed with discontent, gesturing a hand to her. “You’ve made her feel uncomfortable.”

“Yet I was not the one to introduce the tension.” 

As the men eyed each other off all Teresa could do was sit rigid and still, hoping that they might suddenly forget about her presence there. 

“My Lady.” Jakob interjected from behind her, his voice suddenly addressing her forced her to hastily stand and turn towards him, relief flooding through her with the idea of escaping the undesirable tension.

“Yes?”

“Your lord brother wishes to speak with you.” Jakob stated before clarifying. “Prince Xander.”

A brief look around revealed her immaculate older brother; he appeared to have been watching the tension mount in the group, probably sensing that she wanted a way out. “Well then, I will be departing.” Teresa announced with relief, stepping away from their huddled company. They all stood to show her departure respect.

“I hope that my gift was sufficient for you, sister.” Hans smiled, his usual charismatic self back in a heartbeat, bowing in an elegant and dramatic manner. Iago and Imogen were similar but more modest in their movements.

“It was, my lord. I will keep this all in mind and write you if anything you have said happens.” Teresa politely thanked him; turning to Iago whom she could tell wanted to speak.

“I will likely be seeing you tomorrow, my lady. If you wish to discuss any more about your training I will be around.” He explained, his soft smile growing ever so slightly. 

“If I have any questions I will be sure to have you summoned, my-” She cut herself off again from addressing him so formally. “Iago.”

“It has been a pleasure, Lady Imogen. I will be sure to write you too if anything you said happens.” Teresa nodded before turning, after a few steps a hand on the shoulder stopped her, encouraging her to turn around.

Imogen stood before her, the blue card still in hand and meekly extended towards her, it shook slightly with her nervous disposition. 

“My Lady. When a card as significant as this shows up as being personal it should be given to the person that received it to remind them of what was said.” Imogen fretted as quietly as a mouse, however it appeared it was loud enough for Hans to hear her. 

“She’s right. A card like this comes to people for a reason. You must accept it and then the rest of this deck must be destroyed. It’s the rules.” Han reaffirmed, picking up the remnants of the deck that turned to fire and ashes in his hand, sullying the furniture and floor before completely dissolving. Her card was the soul survivor. 

“Thank you.” The corners of Teresa’s mouth perked up whilst she accepted the card, bowing her head to Imogen. The girl turned her face away and let go of Teresa’s wrist, allowing her to leave entirely. Teresa looked down at the place Imogen had touched her with her gloved fingertips. She had not felt the touch nor even seen her do it; there was no warmth or pressured feeling, simply nothing. 

She walked the rest of the way to Xander who turned to her upon arrival.

“You looked a little uncomfortable there, sister.” He solemnly observed, Xander tried not to sound concerned but a small undertone in his voice betrayed him. “Is everything ok?”

“Yes.” She dismissively replied. “There was just some political bickering that I got caught up in.” 

“You should get used to it. No doubt father will request that you sit in court soon. Then you’ll get to deal with more of their lecherous type.” Xander snarled with disdain.

“Oh how I look forward to it.” She teased; her brother merely sniggered before turning the card over in her hand. He looked at it for a second, as did she.

“I see you got a reading? I thought that you weren’t into divination.”

“I’m not. It was a gift from Lord Hans.”

“How did it go?”

“Like all the other ones have, I suppose.” Teresa tiredly grumbled, looking down into the depths of the card once more. The women surrounded by her malicious crowd of men. Leo came and joined them then holding two clear goblets of rosy wine, apparently he had overheard the conversation. Or perhaps he had been involved in the plot to help her escape the tense seated party. 

“Look, just forget about it and enjoy the rest of the evening.” Leo kindly encouraged, handing her another goblet of wine. “Getting you a bit drunk will make things fun, or so I seem to recall. You’re always so upbeat when it happens.”

Teresa took a sip and looked back down at the card. Even though her head was starting to become light with the intensity of whatever Leo had given her she could not make the card move again. To her it seemed to be for the better.


	6. The Inherited Advisor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teresa begins her tome training with Iago.

# ~ A Minute Before Dawn~

# Blooming Moon Arc

### Chapter Six: The Inherited Advisor

After watching Xander’s horse bound combat in Windham’s arena Teresa had needed to leave, just as inspired by her brother’s spectacular combative abilities as the cheering crowd. Each spectator completely captivated by Xander’s charm and finesse, or so it appeared to her. 

She wished to stay and watch other soldiers participate, to cheer for them in their trials and show her support to their efforts, however her training with Iago beckoned, and she was keen to honour the engagement. Not only that, but the Cawdor were notorious for their tendency to obsessively pursue the time. Because they lived in a place that had essentially no light, the stars and clocks were always looked to read the dark’s sunless mind. As a result they were always punctual or early, and she was determined not to run late and inconvenience the busy man. 

The doors to Castle Krakenburg were opened for her as she glided through, a mixture of excitement and foreboding wrestled in her gut. Teresa knew the feeling well, for every tutor she had greeted it seemed to grow stronger, keen to learn but frightened to fail again. It only took a few minutes to arrive at the Great Stairwell; her newest tutor was already waiting for her, attention buried amongst the throws of a tome. 

He looked well in place with the surrounding stairwell. The slate coloured walls grew and kissed each other high above to form an arched ceiling. Red and orange carpets gently blanketed the beige marble floors, glistening with the auburn light of surrounding lanterns and candles. Intricate square patterns masked the marble, creating a simple artistry that was not overwhelming. Like the ballroom the night before the hall seemed to glisten as if lit by the sun. The glorious chandelier hung before the stairs began their ascent and lit everything within sight.

The magnificent stairwell this castle boasted was composed of many stairs that gently sloped towards the castle’s important rooms in a set of three. Banners lolled from the second story like tongues from a panting dog, they were simple looking and mimicked the colours of the carpet. However, they lacked the distinct swirling pattern the floor coverings eagerly displayed. Only the magic turrets, that had played sentry for decades, seemed out of place, their purple orbs glowed independent of use, an ominous light that looked too out of place compared with the rest of the composed hall.

Amongst the large exedra in the hall giant, giant black plated Dark Knights stood an eternal watch, ready at a moments notice to wake and protect her kin from foreign invaders that might invade the castle’s confines. 

Teresa took a closer look at what he wore, he did not don his typical ranked garbs, today he wore simple clothing along the lines of what he wore when he came to bleed her. His cape and golden attire were gone, as were his bloated sleeves and puffy pants. But his apparel still possessed a semi-loose quality. The front of his chest was covered with a slate material that merged with mesh that shielded his sides. The mesh extended to the halfway mark down his upper arms before finishing as sleeves. His pants were of a darker grey tone and finished at his glossy boots. 

Instead of his characteristic, headdress he shielded his right eye with a golden eye patch depicting a burning sun, leaving its colour or even its presence as a complete mystery to her. Maybe he had the heterochromia his family was known for and wished to modestly hide it. When she had asked him before why he always covered the eye he had smiled and blamed tradition from his heritage. Many a time she had requested him to show her what he hid there, each time he respectfully refused.

A stray strand of hair flowed down over his nose to the opposite, left cheek, breaking up his pale complexion slightly rather than amplifying it. The black nail lacquer Sorcerers typically donned did the same and reflected orange specks from the surrounding lighting. It also complimented the stark beauty of the cold silver and vivid purple ring he was wearing on his right index finger. 

She addressed him as her boot heels clicked against the stone.

“Good morning, Lord Iago.” As he looked up from his tome and snapped the book shut with one hand she kindly smiled. “I trust that your morning has been well.”

“It has been, princess.” Iago’s deep voice purred, returning her smile and honouring her presence with a bow. 

“My lo-“ She winced and stopped her formal address, even momentarily discontinuing in her step. “-Iago. Please do not bow to me, there is no need to.”

He cocked his head to the side, his revealed left eye looked intrigued by her request. The russet was tainted by the surrounding light to appear redder than it actually was. “That is curious, my lady. But if this is your request I will gladly oblige you.”

“Good.” 

“Well, let us not waste any time. If you will please follow me, my lady.” He requested, turning around and gesturing for her to take his side as they ascended the stairs. Without needing to say anything Felicia, Flora and Jakob hung back slightly. A brief look around revealed that none of his staff were close at hand. 

“How were the events in the arena this morning?” He questioned.

“They were good. Xander amongst others performed exceptionally well, the crowd was very engaged in the action when I was leaving.” She casually explained.

“Ah, yes. Did you enjoy yourself?” 

“Of course I did. The fighting over the last two days has been exhilarating.” She grinned, continuing to follow when he turned right at the top of the flight of stairs. “In honesty it made me excited to get here and train. Hopefully I’ll be able to show at least a little improvement in your presence.”

“I will make sure that this will happen, my lady. You can count on me.” Iago gently smiled, his fingers lightly tapping the surface of his tome. 

“Of course I can, you’re the best of the best. If you can not fix me, nobody can.” Saying that out loud made her guts twinge a little in discomfort, the sound of that truth rang bitterly in her ears.

“Well, I suppose that if we were not to succeed you might get ‘the chop’.” He coolly stated; she instantly got what he was saying and began to laugh. This seemed to please him.

“That was good.” She commended whilst they climbed another flight of stairs. He was obviously making a joke about her inclination to axes as well as tomes. Father had selected tomes in favour of axes to make her more diverse and holistic, axes still remained her back up plan. 

“I can tell.” 

They continued to casually chat as they progressed towards the training area; it was one of the roof courtyards where she had trained with sword. Only a few targets had been set up for her to hit and a small table was located near the centre. A few tomes crowned it and they each appeared of different ranks right up to the most proficient tier. The surrounding lights of other spires that were closely huddled around it lit the courtyard; torches were sparse but still present. Chairs were arranged for her staff, his servants appeared ready to tend their needs as well, each of them dressed in his house colours.

A table with sweet food and pots of steaming tea called her to eat; yet she resisted for now, wanting to focus more on her training than consuming the tempting food on the table. Most of it consisted of cakes laden with cream and berries, tarts with custard or almond cream and hordes of fruit glistening with honey. There were also a wide variety of nuts and what appeared to be nougat and almond clusters intermingled amongst them. However the krapfen looked by far the most appetising, the balls of dough contained sweet jams, and the mystery of what they exactly contained fought for her attention. Reluctantly she looked away and returned her divided attention to the tome table next to which she now stood.

“Right.” Iago beckoned, handing her the lowest ranked tome in the pile, a book of cracked brown leather that appeared very old and well worn. It had the familiar musty smell that she enjoyed. “I plan on assessing your progression with the lower ranked tomes before we tackle higher ones. Could you please try and attack the central target, princess.” She took the tome in her right hand and assumed her battle stance, keenly concentrating on the target and drowning out all outside distraction. 

“Is there any specific spell you would like me to use?” She murmured, feeling the old book come to life in her hand, the pages cycling through various pages of spells, incantations and summons. 

“No, anything will do.”

It was as if the tome decided for her, seized her and forced her to extend her pulsing left arm towards the straw target. A familiar tingling sensation crept over her skin and gave her small goose pimples, sizzled in her lips and burned her sinuses, jolted her muscles. It climaxed and extended through her arm, flicking out of her fingers once her arm was fully extended. 

“Incendedo!”

Glittering circles imprisoning runes expanded from her skin, a series of three connected by arterial lines, nurtured within an outer circle as if it were a womb. Around the target a single glimmering circle drew inward, as if to suffocate the straw before the magic could take place.

After an instant of silence and a relaxed pulse over her crawling flesh the straw target erupted into flames, all consuming, turning the hay man to ash as quickly as the flames receded. As they consumed it a shrill crackling sound screeched in the air, exploding alongside the glittering orange flames that licked its moisture-depraved flesh.

“Good.” Iago encouraged, handing her the next tome. This one was almost equally weathered, yet it had a softer cover of dyed purple leather, a small stone of topaz embedded in the centre of its face like a singular eye.

She adopted the same stance and directed the spell toward another target. This time the hairs on her arm stood up and her heart began to race, a pressure built within her head and the smell of musky ozone hung faint on the air. Similar runes appeared but they told a different story.

“Fulgoforo!”

This time lightening struck and thunder restlessly grumbled despite the lack of clouds in the speckled sky, it seemed as if the heavens had decided to strike the lifeless man down, angered by some offence the lifeless bundle had committed. The distinct flash burned her eyes and a bright patch was all that was left, she had to blink a few times to dismiss the flashing blotch engrained within her eyes. Once it had vanished she could find no trace that the doll had even existed, apart from a burnt splatter where the rod of light had struck through it to the roof below.

“Very good.” Her tutor smiled, giving her the next tome whilst taking the one she had just used. “This is the C ranked tome, show me what you are having trouble with.” Now her heart truly began to race and the gal in her belly became slimy like an eel, she feared what failure was to come and swallowed, hoping for some miracle. Even though she knew that her father’s retainer was here to help her, she still did not wish to fail before him and humiliate her integrity. 

“All right.” She whispered to herself, assuming her stance and allowing the green covered book, not nearly as worn as the other two, to flick through. She felt the commanding word come to her mind with a refreshing sensation. Her skin felt as if it were being caressed and massaged by a gentle breeze, compelling her to sigh and breath out as the runic circles fled from her, the sudden urge to rid herself of breath becoming her personal obsession. 

“Eurulacera!”

Unlike the rest of the spells this one did not come, instead the wind on her skin died down, the runes around the straw thrall faded and she was forced to take a deep inhalation. “Try again.” Iago demanded. His tone was not cruel or terrible, more curious, yet his commanding her niggled at her annoyance. She inhaled again; trying to make sure that her own personal frustrations did not get to her. 

“Eurulacera!” Again nothing happened. She only felt a surge that was suddenly cut, receding from her casting arm as if cowering away into the depths of her being. Like her usual dislike of command without mutual understandings and proper ties, it seemed to be ignoring her authority. It seemed ironic to her, only leaving a dissatisfied sour taste in her mouth. “Again.” She sighed and complied with his wishes.

“Eurulacera!” Again nothing happened, Teresa stood away from her stance and shrugged her shoulders, resting her casting arm on her hip and turning to the tall man. When she met his eyes she cocked her head to the side and shrugged again, raising her eyebrows.

“How do you feel after that?” He inquired with great curiosity, the eel still writhed within her, furiously biting and gnawing.

“Annoyed that I can not get it.” She hissed, doing her best to hide her seething discontent.

“Understandable, but what I meant was how you felt casting rather than your emotional outlook.”

“Oh. Well it just seems to build up and then suddenly stop – kind of like it’s retreating back inside of me.” She explained, he only nodded and clicked his fingers. A young maid carried a fresh stack of tomes to the table; they all appeared to be of C-rank status. 

“Try with these different tomes, and this time increase the pressure by which you are casting – really try to force that energy out.” Iago instructed; she picked up a slate covered tome with a glistening stone of topaz.

“My other tutors have made me try that.”

“Try again, you are still only practicing, my lady.” 

With a reluctant sigh she started the processes again. This tome filled her with a sense of heaviness and a vague feeling of fingers scraping down her arm, aching pain nagging at her eye, but not uncomfortable enough to elicit any response. 

“Trucidango!”

The runes formed and she tried everything to push the slippery feeling from out of her arm, but to no avail, it only seemed to slither back inside of her to the writhing in her gut. She tried a few more times before taking up another tome.

“Mulcibmorda!”

Only the sense of a biting heat and a pulse up her arm, then nothing as her energy faded away, only the scorch of her flaring discontent burning behind her eyes.

Tome after tome, more pressure then less pressure, a slower release then a faster release. With Iago she repeated everything her tutors had already tried, struggling to reason as nothing new happened. Perhaps a part of her had secretly thought that it would all just snap into place today. A violent head-shake flung that thought from her aching head. It must have been hours by now and all she had gained was a headache that demanded her immediate gorge on the sweet foods crowding the nearby table. 

“Perhaps we should stop for today, my head feels like its about to explode and my muscles feel so strained.” She sighed, placing the tome back on the table with a soft thud. “You have been trying for quite some time, my lady, I think that you deserve some rest.” Iago began, picking up the tome of this rank she had started on. “But I would like you to feel the way that I cast, just for comparison.”

She was too tired to disagree and barely managed a nod, her fingers massaging her thumping temples.

“Sense me, princess.” He insisted; she certainly could as she watched him assume the Sorcerer battle stance. His essence felt like oil dripping from her skin and solid crystals of snow gently scraping within her head, her fingertips felt cold and powdery but her core felt warm and sticky. But over everything the mounting power made her feel lightheaded and suddenly very alert. “I’ll build the spell up slowly, stage by stage. Pay close attention to each part.”

His own personal signature mellowed and was assimilated into the spell. She felt a small build up from his core that branched its gnarled fingers out until it tapped into his casting arm. Then a build up near the shoulder joint where it was preparing to be shot out, delicate runes then began to circle around him. Finally a sudden pulse shot from the joint and then an instant later from his fingertips as he summoned the spell with purposeful intent. 

“Eurulacera.” 

The standing mannequin was shred to pieces in an instant and fell to a heap on the floor, taking a spot beside its fallen brothers on their battlefield. 

“Did you feel it?” Iago asked but did not give her a chance to respond. “I slowed the process right down for you, but I added something else in that perhaps you were missing. Could you pick up on what it was?”

“Well I felt the process…” She stated, trailing off into thought about what he could possibly be alluding to. “I’m not entirely sure about what else you were referring to, to be honest, my lor – Iago.”

“Intent.” He said, the word sounded so serious and heavy that it made her frown, she was not sure why.

“Intent?”

“Yes. Perhaps you lack the intent and drive to be able to cast this rank. With every rank you climb you must have more and more of a wish to cast.” He calmly explained, but her frown only grew.

“You think that I lack drive?” She sighed. “I put my all into this, how could I lack drive? I siphon everything I have into flinging these spells from my being.”

“Do you have the intent to kill though?” Iago questioned her, she only scoffed in response, and he grimaced at the gesture. “Do you?”

“Of course!” She asserted, rolling her head to the side and clenching her teeth slightly.

“What about those targets?” His pale hand gestured to the three fallen brothers, two of ash and one cut to pieces. 

“They are straw. How am I supposed to have intent to kill straw men?” She mockingly snorted, her tutor sighed and regained his neutral expression.

“E-ranked tomes require the mere will to cast, D-ranked tomes demand an intent to maim or injure a foe. This current rank requires you to lust for killing your targets.”

“How can you elicit such strong feelings for straw?” She ridiculed. “The real enemy is over the other side of the continent, those men and women are whom I want to kill for the sake of Nohr.”

“Then pretend that the straw are the Hoshidan. Have the will to fell them and see that they never get up again.”

“Do you really think that I lack intent?”

“Perhaps, but I doubt that this is the central problem. Although, increasing your intent may make it easier to apply that pressure required to cast.”

He thrust the tome back at her.

“One more attempt, princess. Then I’ll let you eat till your heart is content.” It was more of a command than a plea, and despite her growing weariness she reluctantly accepted the tome for the final time today.

“Build it up nice and slow, my lady. I want to feel you go through all of the motions.” Iago commanded of her, she could sense him rest a hand just behind her back as if to feel for what precisely she was doing. 

She did as he bid her, building up as slow and controlled as she could, trying to imagine the crumpled, wind ripped stack as a Hoshidan soldier that wanted to hurt her. Teresa tried to overlay her brewing feelings of hatred and discontent onto the unfeeling mound, trying to summon her best intent to kill it. This time she did feel more pressure building up along her arm and shoulder, but like before it seemed to just fall inside of her and die. 

“Damn it.” She muttered under her breath, reminding herself yet again that she would need more time before seeing results, she was being too hasty and expected too much.

“Hmm.” Iago hummed, he drummed his fingers atop her shoulder blade before drawing away, an electrical feeling moving with his hands. Suddenly the spot he had been touching felt cold and unfeeling for the briefest of moments, and then returned to normal with a sudden shudder. 

“Obviously not good enough.” She stated, he only nodded but continued to ponder whilst he stood before her, staring with eyes captivated by a thousand plans or thoughts.

“Yes.” He bluntly agreed. “It was better, but still not enough. I’d say next session we should try with more intent, I’ll give some thought to what else we can try and do some research when I can.”

“If I had any more intent I would have run over to that stupid stack and cut it to dust.” She brusquely teased; curiously her response encouraged a knowing smile from his dull lips. This time her hands drifted to clutch each other behind her rear, head titling to the side and ears twitching every so slightly.

“There, you admitted that you had more to give. So next time feel like you want to go over there and cut it like you would with a sword.” Iago smirked, and placed the tome down on the table before inviting her to walk over to the small stand loaded with food. 

She could not dispute him, not when she was feeling so drained. “You mentioned other things to try?”

“Ah, yes.” He mused, brushing some of his hair behind his ear, the brown in his eye more pure than it had been in the hall but still blushing with the faintest shade of red. Father and his retainers all shared similarly coloured eyes; between them they held the spectrum of brown. 

Father had an untainted, chocolate colour that appeared pure and rich and smooth, but they would sometimes flirt with a reddened tone. Iago was primarily brown, yet there was always an underlying rust to his exposed eye that could turn it red when exposed to warm shades of light. Ganz was more towards the reddened side but seemed to frequently drift between the two shades, his eyes could be seen as a deep brown when under the moon’s jovial beams. The sun only seemed to inflame the crimson to smoulder and later erupt to a shade similar to blood. 

They both sat down at the table and without so much as a look for approval Teresa keenly assaulted the krapfen, biting into the sweet, doughy ball and finding sumptuous blackberry jam crammed to the brim within. Without thought she let out a moan of approval keenly chewing whilst she watched the young man before her smile. He seemed happy with her satisfaction, yet he always seemed content when he did something pleasing in the eyes of her kin. 

“Enjoy.” He smiled, allowing his staff to pour his tea into a soft blue cup ornamented with silvery waves. The brew spewed floral smelling steam into the air, too hot for her liking but apparently just right for his. 

“With baking like this I’ll become fat.” She joked after swallowing the first bite, eagerly diving in for the second. He sniggered again, but it was more likely to keep her happy rather than his own amusement with her humour. 

Teresa used all of her willpower to slow down her eating and listen, pleased that her indulgence in the sweets was treating her rumbling headache and stomach. Jakob poured some flowery smelling tea for her; the tepid temperature was exactly how she liked it and tasted of the right intensity.

“By other methods I was referring to things like stone therapy, compulsion and hex – but for that I will have to get explicit permission from your father. I could not possibly imagine him being happy with my hexing you whilst he remains unawares.” 

“What types?” Teresa pressed with intrigue, gesturing for Jakob to get her a slice of cake. He carefully placed the piece down on her garden themed plate with expert precision. The sponge was pale and simple, divided into two by a thin layer of cream and strawberries. But the seam of cream that crowned the magnificent wedge was very thick and cushioned the various array of berries that lay there begging to be consumed. 

“Hmm. From the top of my head I would say things that would help me understand the way your magical energy flows or even spells that would allow me to control your flow from my own body.” He said, but it seemed more like he was talking through options with himself rather than with her. “Have any of the other tutors tried hexing you before?”

“Actually, no. They have not.” Teresa said after swallowing some of the cake. “None of them ever mentioned anything if they did try.”

“Well, I suppose they might have been too frightened to ask. No matter the hex there is always a price and always a risk that it could go wrong on either victim or caster or both. I suppose even the smallest risk for them would have been enough to stop them from even bothering. Nobody wants to have their head on a pike at the end of the week.” Iago chuckled to himself through the last part; she slowed her chewing and glanced at him, cocking her head to the side. Perhaps the risk unnerved him as well, sometimes when she was anxious she tended to laugh things off to make people less worried. Otherwise it was clear that he was enjoying some dark humour. 

“Yet you are keen to take that risk.” She observed, licking some cream from her lip and pointing the silver fork at him. Iago lounged back in his chair and crossed his arms; from the surrounding light the patch sheltering his right eye strongly glistened, as if it were secretly livened by the prospect of such risk.

“I do not intend to fail your father – or you for that matter. I take pride in my reputation.” A sneer almost marked his face; the idea of failure must have disgusted him greatly. That only made her gut seize and clench uncomfortably.

“Oh, well …” She began, placing the fork down next to the half eaten cake and resting her hands in her lap. “… I do not wish to see your reputation lessened in such a way if you take so much pride in it.” She eyed off some of the other food but did not feel as hungry, only heavy with the weight of his gaze. She could whole-heartedly understand why he did not want such a failure to take place. What would people, no, his adversaries say if her father’s most esteemed Sorcerer and Nohr’s tactician could not resolve her problem? Surely he would be laughed at. 

Perhaps he sensed her discomfort or maybe he could see it on her, even though she felt that she was hiding it well, because after a moment of stagnant silence he abruptly changed the topic. 

“Have the other tutors given you stones before, my lady?” 

“A few have. Myra gave me a chunk of fire agate to use.” She said, taking a long sip of her tea.

Her tutor pushed away from the back of the chair and leant over the table, grabbing an almond cluster and studying it in his fingers. “And how did that fair you?” 

“It seemed to work for a while but then things got harder, like my magic had become heavier and more explosive. Sometimes I felt like I could not control it at all.” She explained. “Others tried with ruby, opal and amber with similar results.”

“Maybe we should try a watery stone on you. All of those stones are connected to fire. Besides, making your magic more fluid might help with the congestion you explained. Do you get it normally?” His grasp released the almond cluster and reached beneath the table where he seemed to fiddle with the ring on his finger.

“I suppose that I usually feel congested.”

Across the table he handed her the silvery ring, the purple stone glistened as if dew stuck to the surface. “Amethysts are water linked stones. There are plenty of others though. I will inquire with your father if he has any rings from his mother that I could charm for you.”

She brushed the bumpy stone with her thumb; it felt quite cold despite just being worn. “If you think that it will help.”

“We will play around with different types and different elements and see how you react. Because your Dragon Veins have not come to the foreground of your abilities yet we will just have to guess what your central element is.” Iago sighed, picking up the almond cluster to finally eat it. 

“I’m guessing that yours is water then.” She confidently stated, trying the ring on but finding that all of her fingers were too small to keep the band in place. After trying she gently handed the ring back.

“You guess correctly.” 

“Did you have congestion problems?”

“No.” He smiled, “I took to magic quickly and without serious issue. In Cawdorian tradition your parents watch you and then select a stone type for you that you are supposed to keep at all times.”

“Why?”

“There’s no particular reason apart from tradition. Mine is the amethyst, Imogen has blue calcite and also heeds water. One of my brothers holds a stone of fire and the other of air.” He casually explained, playing with another cluster of nuts as if examining one of the fine stones that he mentioned. He looked slightly troubled when he mentioned his brothers.

“Interesting. Do other houses founded on magic hold similar traditions?”

“Each house has their own set of traditions, most of ours have been…” He trailed off a little, looking for the appropriate word. “… Forbidden.”

“Yes, I’ve heard of a few.” She wearily sighed, recalling one of the civil war in the past explicitly started by Cawdorian ‘traditions’. The house had, at best, a violent past. Siblings murdered siblings in cold blood if they had heterochromatic eyes so that their own children could inherit the house. They had taken their wrath out at their own people, torturing and controlling their masses until they had become as sedated and accepting as sheep. The submissive trait was still rife amongst those that lived within their territory. 

Their mistreatment of their subjects by the magic that was supposed to protect them only inflamed the other houses into action against their expanding grasp. Slowly they had tried to seize lands to their west, east and south until their lord, Wöden proclaimed himself a king and launched a full-scale invasion on the Rever, Nunn and Krakenburg territory. The Cawdorian had been defeated and the worst of their offenders had been executed, those that felt guilty and were not of use to the future of the house were branded with an unbreakable curse of long life and youth and banished so that they could suffer for their sins. 

Her queen ancestor, Morrígan, had allowed their line to continue, placing the most timid of the sons on the Cawdorian throne whilst executing the others. Her only daughter, Áine, threw herself in front of Cawdor’s true heir and her lover, Freyr, in order to shield him from her elder brother’s blow. Both Freyr and Áine had died, her brother later drowning himself with the pain of losing his sister by his hand. Morrígan cursed Wöden and in her death had supposedly remarked that she looked forward to taking his life again once she reached the next place. 

Despite the heir’s submissiveness the line did not remain passive for long, but having learned their lesson they did not extend their wills beyond their own lands and for many other houses that was enough. 

And now, centuries after the terrible events that had occurred, their descendants both sat having tea and being civil. The seething hatred between both of their ancestors made their respectful conversation appear ironic. Morrígan and Wöden must have been rolling in their graves as they spoke, perhaps even more so when Iago consulted her father and brothers with war tactics. 

As she placed the empty cup down and leaned back, listening to him talk of different traditions in different houses she could not help but wonder if his heart was turning black. With each pulse was it rotting? There was a saying amongst so many of the other houses, an unofficial mantra for house Cawdor: ‘Trust not those with black blood as their minds are equally dark’. 

Yet the man that sat before her was not so dark. He always keenly served her family’s host, always smiled when they addressed him and did everything in his power to advance their kingdom. From her experience in the past he was always rational and intelligent, in control of any situation and showed no indication of the madness or malicious intent their house was infamous for. 

After listening intently for a while Iago asked her a question that strayed far from their conversation on military tactics. “What did you do with the card, my lady?”

“I put it in my book by my bedside, why?” Teresa curiously stated, the man picked something from his side of the table and leaned over to hand it to her. 

Her card.

She looked at the card she had received last night with a mixture of shock, confusion and disbelief. “I don’t think that I brought this here …”

“Likelihood is that you did not, my lady.” Iago smirked and stood, circling around to stand behind her chair and look down at the still image. “Perhaps it remembered what you said about ancient cards the other day.”

“I don’t understand what you are alluding to.” Teresa murmured, turning her head at an awkward angle to try and look up at him.

“I mentioned briefly the other night that some of these cards are old and ‘alive’ in a way. Old powerful things have a mind of their own above the minor cards. It appears that this card has come from a very old deck and is very aware in a way. Well, the older the deck the more mindful the card, or so the ancients once spoke.” He explained, but to her the card did not look so old, apart from a pale stain on its back and a single rounded edge she would have thought that it was new.

“Then why burn things that are so powerful apart from tradition?” She asked, a sarcastic tone in her voice only made him smirk. Maybe he was amused by her insolence, or maybe he looked to her with a strange fondness for her naivety. 

“We burn the deck when a major card like that is drawn. As I just said, the old and powerful have minds of their own and are only selected when they choose their master.” He reached out to tilt the card in her hand more towards his gaze. “If the deck were not burned then the card would only keep coming back to you and would cause terribly bad luck for the decks keeper. And by burning the deck from which it came, its keeper is forever separated from it, allowing it to become wholly yours.”

She turned around a little bit in her chair to better face him. “Lord Hans must have been upset about losing the deck.”

“That energy will move to another deck and in response that deck will become powerful and adopt the new version of this card as its own. Every time a powerful card is drawn the cycle continues anew.” Iago explained as a grin softened his face, he seemed to hesitate before he spoke next. “If anything he seemed more upset with my sister’s superior skills in divination.” 

“He did.” She agreed.

One of Iago’s staff members approached him, handing a papery note sealed with black wax, then taking a few steps back to give them space. Iago continued to speak as he opened the seal and read the letter to himself. During this time she carefully placed the card beneath the tea saucer so that it would not drift away on a sudden breeze.

“I will not deny that Lord Hans has some natural talent, he just has some credibility issues when it comes to his divination. I’ve heard that for important people he sometimes seeks out informants so that he can better adapt the cards to their personal life and make his reading more convincing. Without them I have heard that he is not nearly as good as he make out to be.” He finished reading the letter and neatly folded it before it burst into a silent flame. The fire did not burn him as it flowered then faded. “I’ve heard that there have been times where he did not use informant and was incredibly accurate. However these people have been few and far between for him and seem to have been kissed by the lips of fate – destined to become something greater then they are.”

She felt slightly off put that Hans may have been watching her and wondered who his eyes might have been. It only made her wonder what other eyes had been skulking after her every move.

“You doubt that I will be someone central to fate’s play? I thought that The Blinded Maiden was supposed to be a card of fate.” She teased, a soft laugh rumbled from his lips, gentle and genuine. 

“Everyone thinks that they are central character to fate’s performances, yet fate is the fickle mistress that picks who is important and who is not, the only member of the audience and the only playwright. Perhaps, one day, fate will have something in store for you, my lady. But for now so many of us, myself included, are just acting in the background – auditioning perhaps.” She liked his analogy and smiled, she wondered if he knew about her liking of poetry and play but decided not to ask. What he had said made sense to her, it was likely she would live her life for her country and would then die without any large role-played. Just like the servants during the ball and feast, she would be a footnote in a book, probably overlooked by her future ancestors. 

She did not despise the thought, although it saddened her a little. She matched her mentor’s soft smile and felt that the analogy was humbling. At least there was no apparent pressure to perform some spectacular role. That seemed to be Xander’s act. 

“And Imogen?” She questioned, “She seems quite adept.”

“She is but she is quite specific. She does not typically divine from cards or balls of crystal or palms, but she is good with those as well. She divines mostly in her sleep and does not select her target. Sometimes it happens spontaneously.” He looked down to the pile of ash that had scattered onto the rooftop. “If it happens when she is awake, it truly is a frightening but spectacular thing. I’ve only seen it once, when we were mere children, but …”

“But?”

“It is moving, you never feel quite the same about the diving arts after witnessing something like that.” His quiet, solemn voice fell off into silence for a while before he sighed and stood away from her. 

“Do you believe what she said about me last night? About all of those pieces of paper that dictate my ‘future’, however far that term stretches.” She whimsically asked despite the nagging in her gut. 

“I do, but only because I believe in the cards as well as my sister.”

“And she seemed to support what Lord Hans had said.” Teresa pointed out.

“My sister has also been wrong before, it is possible that they have both read you wrong, but it is also possible that they are both correct. You drew a difficult read, even for the best diviner.” He smiled a bit before continuing, as if amused. “Fate is the only thing that knows your future, yet, like a playwright re-reading their work, your future may change. As of last night, perhaps that is what fate has in store for you, but tomorrow that may change.”

The nagging in her stomach grew a bit stronger. 

“The reading itself seemed logical. You will be married to a powerful lord with political interests whilst others fight for your hand, and nobody receives satisfying reward without difficult trial. It is likely that these trials will shape how you think and develop you into the leader your father wants you to be. It seems logical but that is because fate usually is.” She pondered what he said and understood his case, but even with the nagging feeling she felt disinclined to believe that a few slips of paper would cast such a large shadow. Besides, he had mentioned the hand dealt as sounding logical, perhaps her diviners had merely taken what public knowledge was available about her and used it to craft a thrilling story to drive her forward. 

“My Lady, it appears that your father has returned to the Castle from the tourney and is in need of my council. I will have to depart.”

“Of course, you may take your leave, my lo – Iago.” She stood and bowed her head to him. 

“I will ask your father’s permission regarding what we discussed earlier. I only ask that you enjoy the rest of the food with your staff, my own will take care of you until you are ready to leave. Please, enjoy the rest of your morning, princess.” He stated before he began to turn.

“Iago.” Teresa called; he spun back to her, curious.

“My lady?”

“Will you be coming to see me in three days time?” She asked before clarifying what she meant, not that he doubted that he would understand. “For the next session, that is.”

“Ah, of course. I had meant to send word to you later about it. We’ll begin the evening sessions next time and will continue them from there.” He clarified.

“The day after tomorrow I will be heading back to my citadel. I just thought that I should let you know.” 

“Thank you, princess. I will come to you then.” He confirmed, turning and then looking over his shoulder with a soft smile. “Keep an eye on that card.”

She smiled at the tease and watched him leave, the rest of her staff sat down to eat and drink and talk, the maids and butlers dressed in black, crimson and gold silently tending their needs. After a while she requested more tea and had noticed that the card had moved again, no longer pinned beneath the flowery saucer. 

A quick search revealed that it was nowhere to be found, at least not in the immediate vicinity. With a shrug she sipped her tea and listened to Felicia and Jakob talk. She had just learnt that old and powerful things have minds of their own. Perhaps for now it had merely appeared to tease her or to try and communicate something beyond her understanding at the current time. 

It would show up again when it felt like it, and until then she would patiently wait to see when it would hound her next. 


	7. Melancholy Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teresa and Camilla spend time together before her departure to different home.

# ~ A Minute Before Dawn~

# Blooming Moon Arc

### Chapter Seven: Melancholy Sky

Surprises were usually an exciting thing for Teresa, unexpected participation in new events were doubly so. However, court had not been entirely what she had imagined.

The majesty of the room was simplistic, yet every intricate carving in the dark wood of seats and crescent layered dais were spectacular, creating a striking dichotomy with the rest of the chamber. From the sides of the room, the banners of different houses hung, a shadow behind the sections where noble lords and their ‘Vassal Seats’ sat. A large banner of the major houses hung in the centre on the stoned walls behind their appropriate seats, smaller banners for their minor houses lingered close by. Almost as dependent on the main banner for support and recognition as the living houses were themselves. 

Those houses that sat toward the entrance of court were of a lesser status than those sitting near her house, Krakenburg, located on the highest point of the ascending dais. The melancholy white banner of Nunn with the golden staff and the lazy purple flag of Cutler with their slate throwing knife and ruby pomegranate sat closest to the entry. 

Those of higher significance to her father sat closer to him. His first wife’s house sat to his left due to honour of marriage, and now the Rever sat to his right to display Hans’s union with Camilla. When her brothers got married their spouse’s houses would be seated next to Lovelock, her future husband’s house would be seated next to the Rever. 

Twin staircases lined the sides, branching their thin veins into the seating areas so that the lords and ladies could sit in their unique thrones. Her father’s chair was the beating heart of the room, a colossal throne carved of heavy oak and white bone, depicting motifs from each of the archaic Nohrian houses. Below him were his children’s seats, her seat. Camilla and Xander sat in the centre, she sat next to Camilla and Leo had a seat next to Xander. Elise would be seated on the end next to her, and eventually when Rickard was grown he would sit next to Leo.

Half of each of their seats was decorated like father’s, honouring the houses that founded Nohr. But now Camilla’s was different, the first to have the polished, vacant half of the throne accentuated with Rever motifs to prove her marriage into their house. Where the oak had once been simple sat carvings of moons and lively tomes, a few stars were scattered in between. 

The room was tiled with shining dark marble, tongues of red carpet laced with gold beckoned her to ascend on the left side of the space to her own seat. To get there she walked past the banner of Cutler, Stein’s golden sun and red stalk of wheat on a yellow field, Cawdor’s wrathful banner and Rever’s one that looked envious by comparison. When she had slid into her row of seats behind that of minsters, war advisors and the captain of the Imperial Guard she took to her own chair. She was the last of her siblings to arrive and only when she had been seated above the rest of the noble families did she realise how crowded court was. 

Camilla had told her that court was not often as overcrowded, but because many of the heads of family had gathered for her marriage it was a good time to conduct such a massive session. That way the heads of houses could break redundant alliances, forge new ones and come to consensus on issues their houses had been facing. The only head of house that had not attended was Iago’s eldest brother, Demetrius, along with his other elder brother Chiron. Instead they had left Iago to his own devices, to contend with the many other heads.

When father had arrived, garbed in his extravagant purple, ebony and white robes everybody stood and waited for him to take his seat, and then court had commenced. It was mostly just talking and arguing about various issues, father only tended to get involved if the fighting got out of hand.

The lords of the southern houses bickered and crooned about the problems with crop yield, the strange burning of wheat fields and orchids and the sacking of supply lines. They begged father for more security in the form of soldiers and he permitted each of them a few thousand men, mostly green troops that needed experience fighting. Sentry duty is what they would get, guarding row after row of plant and food from the fiery shadows that haunted them. 

To the west the Rever and Cawdor continued to argue about borders, to the east the Glover and Cutler ravenously fought over house Yeoman and who the rightful protector of it was. Eventually father had to interject and declare that under his reign the Glover had won Yeoman, therefore as long as he breathed they would keep it. 

Many of the houses, major and minor, begged the southern houses for more supply in food. Iago was mostly quiet during that time, aware that his Lord-uncle Becket Stein would vouch for Cawdor’s stores. Their Northern land grew very little and what they did grow was under the influence of house Hyde, one of their vassals. And from that the Dane would also be fed and would share what they had sewn with their twin house. 

House Pyke, the main provider of soldiers, had to decline Garon’s request for more men, claiming that the fighters they were nursing were not prepared enough to send to the east and southern border guard. 

There was talk of tensions amongst the slums and poor due to the dwindling food, the increase in crime and how it could be suppressed, concluding that all those who are tried for their crimes will be enlisted into the army. The Grand Treasurer discussed money and metals with each house before many became spiteful of the Cawdorian-Danish monopoly on the realm’s ores. 

The war Generals that had attended the festivities from their posts were briefly allowed entry to discuss the conditions of their placements, their men and any skirmishers with Hoshidan’s or spies. 

So much had been talked about that by the end of the session her mind was numb and she could no longer be bothered thinking. Thankfully, her position as her father’s daughter had allowed her to leave very soon after him. Camilla had been happy with how noble she had appeared throughout the entire thing and how well she had sat, seeing that Elise had become restless and had been permitted leave a quarter of the way through. As a predetermined reward Camilla invited her to supper, just the two of them. Finally they had time to catch up.

Today Camilla was dressed in an elegant dress of creamy orange that clashed with her free-flowing purple hair and gold accented the elegant gown. Teresa wore something very different. 

Instead of a dress she had worn simple draws and a feminine doublet, the shoulder of the slate garment puffed up and gave way to silver sleeves that extended down the entirety of her arm. Black leather gloves and parallel, pearly buttons were the only things breaking up the doublet. Without the buttons the slight curve of her small bosom would have been lost amongst the fit of the apparel. The high collar it donned complimented with the downward slope of some free material towards her groin. 

Well-fitted light grey socks covered her legs and extended to her knees, abruptly stopping at the stark border of her pants, the same slate material as the doublet. Their grey wool crowned the top of her black boots that clicked against the tiles as they walked. 

Camilla had questioned her choice of clothing, it was not fitting of a maiden at court, and a dress would have been more appropriate. Teresa had agreed with her. However, she had chosen to dress this way on purpose, she was training to eventually take lead of an army, she wanted Nohr’s lords and ladies to see that. And when father had overheard Camilla’s criticism he had agreed with his younger daughter, much to both of their surprise. In his eyes he also wanted her to look strong, like the leader she would grow to be. 

But now, as they walked away to her family’s Moon Garden for supper, conversation had drifted elsewhere. 

“How can people sit and listen to that drivel for so long? How many hours were we all hovelled up in that over-stuffed room anyway?” Teresa tiredly hissed whilst wiping some sweat from her brow, the room had been too humid for her liking. 

“They don’t necessarily want to, sister. But some people are forced to sit at court, it’s a good way for issues can be formally addressed by and before each of the houses.” Camilla dully explained, she took Teresa’s arm and linked it with her own, gracefully carrying them both along the bowels of their stony home. “Besides, five hours is a typical court day.”

Teresa shrugged her shoulders. “Looks like I won’t be attending court again then. I’d much rather be training with sword and tome for fighting in the east. If those lords spend so much time in court surely they will be felled should they face Hoshidan Generals.”

“They are all much stronger than they look, some of the best in their fields. In battle they have little to fear. Some of them like Lord Iago and Lord Marcus Pyke are well feared in Hoshido, or so I’ve heard.” Camilla began, then pausing halfway through to sigh. “Besides, you shouldn’t have to attend court again, it’s mostly Xander’s duty at this time. Our attendance is only supplementary and subject to our own interests. And if you’re interested in leading it might be good to attend, the court settles issues that makes war possible, without them we would not have soldiers, weapons and supplies.”

“Yet father has wished for war for a long, long time.” Teresa’s eyes glanced to the gilded ceiling, flickering with the red lights of candles. “And here we all sit, bickering like children whilst the east likely mocks us.”

“Yes, well...” Camilla began, a little unsure on how to continue. “…The lords are selfish and the conditions are dire. Achieving a level of peace amongst them that is enough to gather everything together is very difficult.”

“And why can’t father just dictate to them what he wants?” Teresa blurted, “He’s the king of this realm, yet he won’t grab them by their necks and take what he needs.” Camilla only laughed when she said this, earning a confused pout and raised eyebrow from her younger sister.

“Dear, sweet sister.” She began, shaking her head in an amused manner. “The lords would hate father if he were to do such a thing, and if he were cruel enough one of them would rally others and seek to usurp him. Father thinks it best to stay out of the issues of the other houses when need be. If you were to see two armed men fighting in the street over a shoulder of meat, would you interject and dictate to them who owns it? Especially when the one that went without would hate you for it.”

“I’d cut it in half and tell them to share it.”

“And then both would spite you for robbing them of a whole, sweet sister. As I said before, the lords and houses are selfish. One would not want to share their yields without getting something equally as important in return. What if father commanded Lovelock to split half of their harvests with the Nunn and expect nothing as reparation, Lord Henry would surely hate him for it. And then he may begin to lose support from them.

“The best way for father to maintain his own rule and to eventually rally everyone behind him is to allow his houses to fix their own disputes and agree on their own terms. Sure, it’s a slower way to unify Nohr, but with the strife we’re riddled with it’s the only way to achieve the unity needed to invade.”

“I see.” Teresa submitted, her head becoming thick with the complexity of mere talk. “No wonder Xander has gotten so serious over the years. Being locked in there with those bores is enough to dull anyone’s vitality.”

“Xander has had much to deal with, you should be less harsh on him.”

Teresa understood what Camilla was hinting at, she must have assumed that her opinion on Xander’s personality had stemmed from a bitter soil. 

“He abandoned me.” She could only manage a whisper as she looked to her shining boots.

“Outside this castle the poor are imprisoned by their hunger and low birth. They wish to be of the blood you saw in the court chamber, but they don’t know that we are just as trapped as they are. Although we all eat and own horses a poor man would work three life times for, we are imprisoned by our duties that could rip us apart. Xander has duties to father as his heir, as does Leo, and I have a duty to my husband to keep the rafters of alliance from collapsing. You also share the shackles of duty and a time will come when you will need to marry whom father sees fit, one day you will understand.” Camilla explained, allowing a small moment of silence to filter through the stained glass windows. The light speckled the stone floors and turned it a thousand colours, bringing some life to the boring hallway. 

“I don’t want to be married off.” This time she whispered on purpose, aware that Camilla’s two retainers were lingering close behind them. Camilla remained silent; it seemed to Teresa that her sister was quietly contemplating the best response.

“Arranged marriage is not so bad. I do not love Hans the way a low born girl and boy would be free to love each other, not yet anyway. But he treats me kindly and will offer father strength in horses and house. Perhaps the marriage will even settle down Lord Demetrius from stirring up problems on their borders. I would think that even a man as riled up as he would take the threat of attacking a house so closely allied to our own seriously.” Camilla gently stated, her voice smooth and calming.

A small, sinister chuckle and satirical smile slithered out from Teresa; she could not repress her distaste at her sister’s blatant lies. “I’m not so easily deceived, sister. I know that a woman as strong willed as you would despise an arranged marriage more than I ever would.”

“Sometimes you have to put duty ahead of what you want for what’s best for the people of this realm. Regardless of if they sit in high thrones feasting themselves silly or dwell in the slums trying to survive every day.” 

Teresa dismissed the topic with a flick of her wrist; her swimming head ached with every throbbing word slung from their mouths, particularly the word ‘duty’. How ugly that word had become to her over the years. 

“When you were born of father’s blood, you were thrown into duty’s maw. This is just the way the world is. It is best that you learn to accept it.” Camilla continued, obviously trying to hammer to point home.

“I’m a fighter, sister.” Teresa began, breaking from her sister’s loose grasp and stopping to look at her, her blood becoming a little hot as it crawled beneath her skin. Two maids now played sentry before them, silently guarding the white doors of the Moon Garden. “Regardless of if I want to fight or not my blood will dictate that I will.”

Camilla gave her a saddened, humble half-smile. “Right you are. So fight for the people who cannot fight for themselves. The mothers and children in the streets of our kingdom need warriors like you. And part of your fight to bring our subjects food and resources is to marry and bare child. You give your husband a child, he will grant you and father armies to fight with in return.”

The doors to the Moon Garden opened then, it was near the core of the castle. Like their home it was located deep within the clutches of a hole, a surprise outcrop of greenery from all around Nohr, all growing in one place. Silvery Moon Berries were scattered about and almost glowed red in the rays the sliver of a crimson disk threw down from the sky, making them appear as pearls growing from a clutch of bushes. When she looked up from the garden she could see the tallest spire trying to grasp the reddened sky at the top of the Hole, the ring of forts barely visible amongst the red and the stars entirely hidden. 

In the centre a round table of polished wood did not look out of place amongst the trees and shrubbery, even with the ivory coloured plates and shimmering cutlery dispersed amongst the food atop it. She could see some roasted meats and many types of vegetables prepared in different ways. Fine vintages of wines sat in a ring at the centre and much to Teresa’s relief some flagons of ale had already been poured for them. 

Behind them the heavy wooden doors closed, their inner surface caked with ivy and plant life, yet not entirely possessed or rotted by what crawled atop them. Now it was just the two of them, alone in one of their family’s private gardens. 

“Come now, sister.” Camilla excitedly urged, grabbing her hand and leading her forward toward her chair. “Let us plate our food and talk of less serious things.” 

“Like what?” Teresa huffed, picking up the warm plate and piling some of the sweeter food onto it. 

“Like how much sweet food you eat.” Camilla teased, introducing some buttery potatoes and roasted beef to her plate, the pale disc becoming greasy as if it were nervously sweating. 

“What did you expect?” Teresa playfully scoffed, putting some cabbage, Brussels sprouts and velvety green kale away from the sweet food on her plate. “You know that I have a sweet tooth!”

“All of your teeth crave sweetness.” Camilla poured herself a goblet of wine, almost to the top. 

“Then all of your teeth must be predisposed towards alcohol.” Teresa observed, pointing towards the purplish liquid in her clear goblet. She then surveyed the meat area for any fish whilst her sister replied.

“I won’t deny that either.” Camilla grinned, shifting the wine to her side of the table and then acquiring a mug of dark ale, the kind that Teresa really liked. An ornately decorated pie sat in the meat section, making Teresa curious as to what was in it.

Her silvery fork pointed towards the pie whilst she turned to her seated elder sister. “What’s in the pie?”

“Fish.” Camilla smiled, taking a sip of the rich vintage and airily sighing as if a great load had been lifted from her shoulders. “I would never prepare a dinner or lunch without including a fish dish for you, sister.”

“Thank God.” Teresa grinned, moving around to the other side of the table to cut and scoop up a large piece onto her plate. It smelt salty and creamy, and the white sauce and fishy flesh contrasted with the meatier lamprey. Satisfied, she placed her plate down and leant over the vegetables to scoop up a brimming mug of the ale. It still had a frothy white crown that merged with the pale bone flagon, the simple one she always drank from when in Camilla’s presence. 

“You can be a strange one sometimes.” Camilla gently teased before taking a delicate bite of the potato and meat. Teresa seated herself and was less refined, there was no reason to be so dainty in front of her sister, there was nobody else watching. 

“What? Because I choose to eat meat over fish?” Teresa’s mumbled through a mouthful of vegetables, then swallowing. “Eating meat makes me feel so heavy.”

Camilla nodded. “But I really think that you could do with more of it in your diet. Red meat helps you get your moon blood.”

Teresa tapped her fork on the plate, mindlessly contemplating the flaky pastry and rich smelling sauce from the fish pie before consuming it. Revelling in the fishy, creamy taste and varying textures of the piece. 

“It’ll come when it comes.” She mumbled through the pie in her mouth, hunching over her food to grab the flagon of ale. 

“Still, it seems odd that you haven’t had it yet, even with the absence of meat.” Camilla pondered after another swig of wine, this time it was less delicate and more lusting for the drink. 

“It’ll come when it comes.” Teresa repeated, swallowing the pie down with some of the bitter tasting ale. After she was done she brushed some of the foam away from her lip using the back of her glove. 

Her moon bloods had become a hot topic of conversation as of late for her sisters, father and his monks. At the age of seventeen, for a noblewoman with access to all the luxuries in life, she was running suspiciously late. Deep down it worried her and made her feel less of a woman. It was a stupid thought, but it nagged at her. 

She envied Camilla’s luscious body and wavy hair, her feminine demeanour, and could see that Elise would grow up to inherit the same feminine beauty albeit less full of frame. Meanwhile she modelled a more athletic build, pillar like and solid with little curve to her breasts or hips. Her hair was often oily and unruly and she felt that her face did not have the same softness a beautiful maiden might have. 

Just because she was training to become a war-hardened General it did not mean that she had disregarded her longing to be seen as beautiful. She envied Camilla for the effortless way she could wear anything and look becoming and the natural fullness of her frame. 

Teresa suppressed the brewing oil of jealousy that pooled in her stomach and lungs, getting rid of it with a brief sigh.

“You’re moping.” Camilla pointed out, piercing some of the meat with her fork and briefly inspecting the chunk. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.” Teresa dismissed, perking up and scooping another hunk of pie up with her fork. Camilla did not need to know that she was jealous; if she did Teresa would never see the end of her affection as a means of compensation. Besides, it was not Camilla’s fault that she was born a natural beauty and that she was not. Even mother had possessed a beauty that drove father wild, she could remember the contemptuous stares of many jealous concubines. 

“Are you sure?” Camilla pouted, delaying her consumption of the food.

“Yes, I’m sure. I was just deep in thought about something else.” Teresa lied, chewing some of the pie. Her elder sister still left the meat on her fork and slowly twirled the cutlery around in her fingers. 

“Like what?” Camilla pressed on.

“Things about you.” Teresa sighed, turning the conversation to her sister, sometimes that was the easier thing to do. That way Camilla would not become overly concerned with her problems or feelings and as a result would not coddle her. 

“Oh?”

“Like your evening during the wedding ball. Was it everything that you expected? You seemed so happy amongst those ladies I felt like I would be intruding if I came over.” Teresa stated with intrigue, preparing a good chunk of buttery vegetables for their inevitable fate.

“You should have come over.” Camilla whined before continuing. “Well, I had a great evening supping with everyone and meeting the Rever host. They’re all quite kind and cast the most magnificent illusions.”

“As dictated by their blood.” Teresa coolly acknowledged, considering that the Rever were renowned for their exceptional ability to cast illusionary magic. 

“Yes. Dancing with Hans was quite nice; he’s quite adept at it. And then the rest of the evening was … fun as well.” Camilla’s voice faded off, and she looked down at her food, blushing and grinning. A chuckle slipped from Teresa’s lips, it was rare to see her sister looking so coy. 

“Was ‘it’ good fun?” Teresa playfully goaded, perhaps it was cruel to push her sister like this, but her own curiosity now rudely wanted to stick its nose into her business. She could not help but be curious. She knew of ‘the deed’, sex, however it still seemed like so much of a taboo to her. Her host refused to talk about it in length and some of the elder women tried to shame her for her curiosity. 

As far as she knew Xander was the only one of her siblings to have done it until now. And asking him would have been far too embarrassing and would not help their estranged relationship. She had asked him once, when they were younger and more naïve, and he had only nervously pushed the subject aside. 

Towards the end of the evening, father had given Hans permission to take Camilla away to bed her, people had cheered as they left and had continued drinking when the new couple had left. Camilla and Hans were not the only ones to suddenly disappear, she had noticed a few lords and ladies leave shortly after them. The tints of drunken lust still fresh on their faces. 

Whilst she waited for Camilla to give an answer her stomach coiled within her and her mind pulsed as fast as her heart. 

"It was.” She confessed in a small voice, before looking up with a smile. “He was very gentle and tried not to hurt me.”

“Does it really hurt?” Teresa nervously asked.

“It did, at first. It felt good after a little while though.” Camilla said in a tiny, whispering voice. Her pupils had dilated so Teresa could tell that she was excited by the thoughts of whatever she had gotten up to that night. “The stuff before then was fun, he was quite skilled.”

“Was there blood?”

“Only a little bit, not nearly as much as the nuns would have us believe.” Camilla scoffed before taking another sip of wine. 

A small moment of silence passed by as Teresa contemplated the information; she wanted to ask for more, but she did not know if Camilla would feel comfortable telling her. “I think that you will like it, when your time comes.” Camilla murmured, but before Teresa had a chance to reply she continued. “I heard that my dear husband came and gave you a gift during the ball, a reading.”

When Camilla mentioned it Teresa impulsively looked around the table for the mysterious stalking card, it had not followed her.

“He did.” Teresa carefully progressed. “His illusions were fantastic, he made the cards come to life.”

She carefully omitted the more violent and macabre details of what appeared on her cards. 

“It’s spectacular, isn’t it?” Camilla sighed. “He made the cards move for me as well.”

“Has your reading come true so far?” Teresa curiously inquired, taking another sip of the ale and enjoying the yeasty undertones she found.

“Some of it has, and some of it is yet to happen.” She confessed, mirroring her with her own flagon or silver and jewels. Teresa pondered what Camilla had said, and her confidence seemed steadfast. Yet she could not shake what Iago had told her about Hans’s credibility issues. He would definitely have informants on Camilla to make his readings more akin to her life. 

“I see.” Teresa’s eyes shifted to the bread on the table, she seized a small roll filled with garlic butter and smeared it along the plate to mop up the pie juices. “I heard that father has Iago tutoring you now.” Camilla pointed out.

“He does.” Teresa nodded before eating some of the fishy garlic bread. It tasted pleasant to her, so she continued to mop up the juice and gnaw on the bread. “We had our first session the other day. Hopefully he’ll be able to drag me from the grips of whatever problem I’ve gotten bogged down by.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine.” Camilla half-smiled before looking down at her food, playing with it with her fork briefly as if contemplating what to say next. But she did not say anything. 

“God, I hope so. Father said that if Iago can’t figure this out he’d have me take up axes instead.” Teresa bluntly stated and watched her sister beam.

“At least I could help you more with those!” She grinned, picking up her goblet again and swirling some of the wine around. 

“Heh.” Teresa smiled, shifting her gaze down to the sweet food on her plate; the vegetable butter and fish pie had tainted some of it. “That’s quite the dedication sister, you would have to fly from Castle Rever every day. Poor Marzia would not even get a quarter of the way here, you’d have to turn around and go back home.”

She winced a bit with the last part; it felt like she had been struck a little by the use of the word ‘home’. Yet it was true. Camilla would mostly live in the Rever capital of Dormir for the rest of her life. Sure she would visit Castle Krakenburg regularly, but she would spend the rest of her days in Rever lands. She would raise her children there, rule there and be buried there alongside Hans. 

Teresa shook her head from side to side to be rid of the dampening thoughts, when she noticed that Camilla was eerily silent as well she turned the topic of conversation to something different. 

“Well, I suppose there’s always Ganz…” Teresa sneered, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. 

“That would only make me want to watch you more.” Camilla replied after finishing the last of her wine. “I would never trust you in the hands of somebody like him.”

“I don’t suppose father agrees with you. He’s quick to assign him to my side when I need an additional escort.” Teresa candidly stated, finishing her flagon and refilling it with the wholesome brew.

“You need to be mindful around him.” Camilla unnecessarily warned, a strong look of distaste marring her beautiful face. “I’ve seen the way he eyes the noble women around here. I’ve heard some stories about how he is in those slums he ‘rules’ over…”

“You and I both know that I’d chop off his hand if he tried anything. The dominant one so that he’d become a useless warrior.” Teresa snarled in a strange mixture of authority and strong unease, watching a light of excitement enlighten Camilla’s face, a mocking smiles contorting her fine lips.

“I’d chop off much more then his hand.” Camilla jovially threatened, however it seemed lost amongst the laughing of both sisters. 

“I don’t think that he would make a docile eunuch.” Teresa chuckled, losing the last of her laughing and brushing away some of the moisture that blurred her sight.

“No. Men like him tend to think with their cocks rather than their heads.” Camilla began, refilling both her wine and her ale.

“Well then, I guess his lack of valuable thought says a lot about that matter then.” Teresa contemptuously grinned whilst Camilla started laughing again. 

“Perhaps his stature is compensating for it.” Camilla added in through her uncontrolled cackling, exciting a snigger from her younger sister. 

They continued to jest about many different things for a while longer and kept drinking until Camilla was drunk and Teresa felt light-headed and warm. The tips of her fingers were tingling and everything continued to get funnier and warmer.

When the end of the evening came Teresa found herself not wanting to be separated from her sister, even when Camilla’s retainers tried to convince the both of them to have a full nights rest. 

Teresa did not mind Beruka but, like her judgement on Niles, was unsure of her. The small, blue haired woman had come from the slums into Camilla’s services because she had tried to assassinate her. The only reason she had betrayed her employer and had stuck by her sister’s side was because Camilla, and father by extension, had offered her more money and luxuries. But Teresa could not bring herself to trust the quiet woman as much as Camilla did, knowing that her turning on her was dependent on the amount of coin in a person’s purse. Not only that, but this assassin had enough liberty to have access to the rest of her family as well, Camilla was not the only one at risk. 

Selena was her sister’s other retainer, a hot-headed woman with striking red hair to match her spiteful personality. Her snippy remarks and air of superiority made Teresa’s blood boil and she was always keen to put her in her place because of it. Like Odin and Lazward she possessed the same foreign accent and features and had worked as a Mercenary before being adopted under Camilla’s protection. Selena had only scowled when she saw her, and Teresa was sure to return the same scornful courtesy. But she did not say anything, getting into a verbal bout or fistfight with the girl was beyond her dulled capabilities this evening. She was determined to never let Selena out wit, out word or out fight her.

Teresa only giggled alongside her sister when the retainers tried to persuade them to part ways, instead Camilla had taken her hand and staggered off towards her room. When they had gotten there Hans was not present, leaving them to gossip and discuss people at court. Teresa only continued to warm up when they both began to revisit happy memories from when they were younger, cuddling down deep into the plush lilac blankets of Camilla’s bed. 

They talked about when Leo had ridden a horse for the first time, how scared he had been. The times they had all camped in the library with baby Elise and read spooky stories from the books. Camilla looked back fondly on her favourite memory of their father, when he had lifted her on his shoulders and paraded her around the castle for the entire day. The both of them even talked of happy memories involving other half-siblings that had been killed in the massacre.

The warm tingling must have made her succumb, because eventually she was stirred from sleep, and in a hazy fog she saw her staff and Lord Hans trying to wake her. 

“Eh?” Teresa tiredly groaned, burying her face back into the pillow she had claimed from her sister’s bed, a wet patch brushed her cheek from where she must have been drooling.

“Wake-y, wake-y, sister.” Hans quietly whispered, Teresa thought that it was so he would not wake Camilla from her drunken slumber. 

“No…” Teresa grumbled, her tingling fingers digging weakly into sheets.

“Up we go.” Hans huffed, lifting her from the bed. Annoyance bit her gut and made her furrow her brow; she closed her eyes in dull acceptance, as she was too tired to argue with him. 

“My lord, please hand her here.” Jakob eagerly requested, his footsteps travelling up to the lord, she could feel Hans walking. “It is below your status to carry her to her room.”

“Below me to carry a princess to her room?” Hans sniggered; she knew Jakob would not like that. “I carried Princess Camilla to her room.”

His walking stopped, as did Jakob’s. A hint of a smile lingered on her lips. Even though he was taller than Camilla, he had less of a stature compared to her; she was surprised that he had been able to carry her elder sister so easily. 

“Yes, but under different circumstances.” Jakob bluntly stated, his familiar unfriendly tone biting the air around them.

“All right.” Hans sighed, handing Teresa over to her butler. She grunted with the rough change, it was slightly jarring and made her disorientated. “Sleep well, Teresa.”

Thunk.

The doors to Camilla’s room were now closed and Jakob began to gently carry her back to her room, so gently she must have fallen asleep again because the next thing she knew it was time for her to get up.

# *

It was sobering, each of her siblings standing next to their horses and ready to part ways. Three of them were sombrely watching, two of them to return to the warm confines of their own hearths, and one of them was to begin travelling to her new homestead. 

Father, Emily and Rickard were not present, he had said goodbye to his eldest daughter and newest son at the gates of Castle Krakenburg. The sleeping babe and his mother had ridden out before Camilla, travelling on the eastern road from the Mouth for Fowler lands, sheltered with heavy escort. 

Teresa wanted to feel like breakfast had been a cheery event. Just their family had attended; father’s personal servants served all of them. She had been tired of the extravagant food over the last few days; even the dishes at the tourney had been extremely ornate. That morning she had eaten some porridge with apples, cinnamon and milk. Her siblings and father had lazily consumed similar dishes. 

But underneath the simple eating and friendly chatter there had been an overpowering melancholy air, like their familial unit would be empty for the first time in a long time. Of course, Rickard was a new addition, but until he was old enough to take up the sword he would call that Castle Fowler. 

Besides, a babe could not fill the space of a grown woman.

Even though Teresa sometimes felt like Camilla coddled her too much, and even silently hated it when she did it in public, she felt like she would miss it a little. Ever since her own mother had died Camilla had stepped into the role in a strange fusion with her position as her sister. Whenever she had needed to cry or talk to someone, Camilla had always been there to help her. Camilla could understand her perils in a way her other siblings could not. 

And soon she would be in the west, bearing child in the heart of an ancient caldera. 

Their conversation was now drawing to a close, the final one they would all have together for an ominously long time.

“Be sure to write us, sister.” Leo said from beside his ebony horse, Nacht. Like their owners the horses were all dressed casually, not donning any impressive armour. 

“Yes! Yes!” Elise happily agreed from Camilla’s side, swinging their elder sister’s hand between them. “I want to hear alllllll about what Dormir is like in the letters! What sort of things they do to keep entertained, what colours you see the water glow!”

Leo grimaced at the outburst whilst Xander gently smiled, shaking his head from side to side in a knowing way. Camilla giggled at her younger sister, but behind the laughter Teresa could tell that she was trying her best to keep up strong front. 

“Oh! You should draw some pictures for us, sister!” Elise excitedly exclaimed. “Drawings of the castle! Drawings of the people! Oh God, I wish that I could come with you!”

“Oh, Elise~.” Camilla cooed, extending her unrestricted had to caress Elise’s free-flowing hair, the lilac streaks waving like ribbons. “I’m sure that father will allow you to visit some time. Soon I’ll write to him and ask, all right.” 

“Promise?” Elise squealed.

“I promise.” Camilla gently vowed, looking over her shoulder to gaze at her husband, he was patiently waiting amongst their escort and travelling party. A host comprised of the Rever family, their guards and servants amongst many others. 

With a reluctant sigh Camilla faced the rest of them. “I should be going now. We have a lot of ground to cover today.”

Elise was the only one to dramatically become saddened, her child-like joy gone in an instant. Like her elder brothers, Teresa’s gloom had been sprouting over the past few days and only responded to Camilla’s decision to go with a dull ache. Leo only looked up to the sky whilst Xander solemnly nodded.

“Travel safe, sister. Keep in good health when you get there.” Xander sincerely said. Teresa wondered if her leaving would be the hardest on him. They were of the same age, born just over a month apart, supporting each other since the beginning. Together they had overcome so many hardships, and Teresa knew that Camilla had always been the person Xander came to when he had troubles. 

“I will. Besides, Marzia will be close at hand to keep me safe.” Camilla gave Xander a confidant half-smile.

“I think that she’ll like flying around the caldera a lot.” Xander remarked, he was probably right. Marzia, Camilla’s dark wyvern, would enjoy spreading her wings and exploring the new terrain with her master. 

“I wish that Marzia could fly you here every day.” Elise whimpered from beside her brown horse, Zimt. The horse snorted as if it understood how impossible that would be to achieve.

“If only her wings could carry me so far, sweetling.” Camilla sighed, looking to Leo, he still gazed up at the moon and stars above. 

“Leo, don’t mope for me. I’ll still be coming back to visit.” She sighed, tilting their little brother’s head down from his stargazing.

“I-I’m not moping!” He nervously mumbled. “I was just distracted by the constellations.”

The edges of her mouth pulled into a tiny, apologetic smile. “Ah, of course. They’re so lovely today, they seem so much brighter than usual.” 

They all looked up at the stars, the constellation of Anankos shining brightly overhead, as if blessing his children with his light. Teresa sighed, it was clear that Leo would miss Camilla the most; ever since they were young he had vied for her affection amongst Xander’s. Yet every time something significant happened to him something else snatched away their attention. Camilla’s sad smile only made the dull ache in her chest grow stronger, for some reason she had found it touching that Camilla had not drawn attention to how upset Leo was. 

“Besides, Leo.” Teresa began; he looked to her briefly before admiring his reigns, the rest of the siblings giving her their full attention. “The next time we all see her we may have a new member of our family. That will be something to celebrate. Until then just study up, the time will pass quickly.”

“It still feels strange that we’ll all be separated like this. That you’ll be calling another place ‘home’ from now on.” Leo remarked, without a delay a giggle slipped from Camilla’s smiling lips.

“My sweet bother,” She caressed his cheek. “This castle … it will always be my home, no matter how far away I dwell.” 

From beyond her sister Teresa could see Hans becoming irritable, eager to make good ground with their party. With a reluctant smile she approached her elder sister, summoning the strength to start saying her farewell.

“I love you, sister.” Teresa said, pushing up on her toes to give Camilla a hug and kiss on the cheek. The rest of their family swarmed around and showered her with loving kisses and hugs. Camilla seemed to tear up a little despite her strong demeanour and after she was done she briskly mounted her horse and cantered off to her party. Hans waved a signal to move out and then turned to bow to their small royal group before falling in line with his wife. 

Teresa silently watched her sister travel east along the outside of Windham’s great walls. Everything remained still for a while as their party disappeared along the road, a dark, dusty mass blurring into the gloomy aura of the tundra beyond. She could smell the scents of iron, grass and horse on the chill air, its crisp sensation made her feel a little less gloomy. 

“Right, I’d best be off as well.” Teresa stated, mounting Velvet and turning to gesture to her waiting party. Today it would just be Gunter, Jakob, Felicia and Flora riding alongside her. Elise rubbed her wet eyes and cuddled up to Xander, burying her head into his side whilst her breath caught from crying.

“Elise.” Teresa gently whined; a damp purple eye looked to her. “Camilla’s not going to be gone forever. And whilst she’s gone you’ll get to keep Xander more company.”

“That’s right.” Xander agreed, lifting her little frame up with his strong arms so that he could plant a kiss on her soft cheek. Elise feebly giggled when he did so. “I need at least one of you girls looking after me.”

“He does, he’s hopeless with romancing the court ladies.” Teresa playfully teased, earning a lightened smirk from Leo. Xander seemed to catch onto her idea rather quickly.

“Yes, he needs a girl to help him get them the appropriate gifts.” Leo said, joining in the ruse to cheer their youngest sibling up. 

“Oh please.” Xander woefully groaned, exaggerating his tone and letting a deep pout pull down one side of his mouth. “Surely I’m not that hopeless.”

“You are.” Leo smirked. “No wonder you haven’t found a lady to call your own yet. Who would have though that Camilla would be married before you.”

“Hang on, Leo.” Teresa playfully chided, shaking a raised finger from side to side. “You’re pretty awful with girls as well.”

“Yeah.” Xander’s deep voice agreed, his pout transforming into a grin. “You’re so awkward, more so than I am.”

Teresa grinned with amusement, that last part was a blatant lie. If anything Xander was as smooth and popular with the women as father had apparently been when he was younger.

“H-hey!” Leo blurted out; pink began to paint his cheeks in a blush of embarrassment. The ears that sat by his closely trimmed hair also took on a similar shade. “I’m just not interested in holding a proper conversation with them yet. I’d rather focus on my training before father finds some suitable women for me.”

“You’re lying!” Elise pointed out, a smile trembled on her lips and her eyes and nose were less wet albeit still a bit red. “Your ears always go red when you lie! Besides, I saw you trying to talk to those girls the other night.”

“For somebody who takes so naturally to everything I’m surprised that you have problems wooing them, little brother.” Teresa remarked, feeling Velvet’s muscles shimmer beneath her as the horse adjusted its stance. 

“They just didn’t understand the finesse of talking battle tactics!” Leo defensively exclaimed, crossing his arms whilst his horse nuzzled his shoulder, as if trying to comfort him.

“Battle tactics?” Elise pouted with confusion, turning around a bit in Xander’s arms to better look at Leo. “Girls don’t want to hear about that stuff! They want to hear about romance and how beautiful you think they are! Or that you like their hair or perfume!”

“Really?” Xander asked in deliberately surprised tone, acting that this was new news to him. “I thought that they wanted to talk about how to handle swords.”

“Or tomes.” Leo interjected with a snort. God forbid anybody forgot about tomes in his presence.

“Looks like you have your work cut out for you, Elise.” Teresa stated, pretending to observe the issues. “You’d better keep an eye on them whilst Camilla’s gone. I’m sure that she’ll be impressed that they’ve finally learnt how to talk to women when she gets back.”

“She would be. She’s been trying for years to get us up to scratch with how to converse with your mob.” Xander hopelessly sighed, lifting Elise up onto her horse. Leo took that time to mount his as well. 

“Well then. I’ll have to do big sister Camilla proud! I vow that I’ll teach you both how to win all the hearts of the court ladies!” Elise cheerfully swore, seemingly less upset about Camilla’s departure now that she had a task at hand. 

As Xander mounted his horse he slowly nodded to her, pleased that she had given Elise a means to distract her from Camilla’s absence and something to do whilst they all waited for her to return. From the pitiful pout on Leo’s face, Teresa could tell that her brother was less thankful. Leo had never been into plots to keep Elise occupied at the expense of his embarrassment. She would have to make it up to her little brother some other time. 

“Elise.” Teresa called, her younger sister immediately responding with a small, determined smile. “Don’t forget that I’m just down the road. So if you need a break from these boys you can see me any time. We’ll have some girl time together eating sweets and gossiping.”

Leo scoffed. “Is that really what you girls do when you have time together?”

“Yep.” Teresa agreed. “And you’d best get used to it.”

They all shared a chuckle before dismissing each other, her three siblings and their retainers heading back into the Mouth, whilst she urged Velvet down the dusty road to her Citadel. 

Gunter fell into line beside her, Mercer braying as if to greet Velvet. “And so there were four.”

“Yes.” Teresa forcefully exhaled, brushing some stray hair behind her ear. “It seems so strange. The last time Camilla was away was when she was doing her trials for father. But even then, she was coming home afterwards.”

Gunter only sighed, as if trying to find the best angle of approach. He scratched the back of his neck with an armoured hand before he spoke. “You can have multiple homes, milady. Both Windham and Dormir are now Camilla’s, just like how your citadel and the village where I was born are my homes.”

“One day I’ll have to move away to another castle.” Teresa bluntly whispered, watching the grass beside them grow taller and take up a very faint purple hue. Each blade danced in a soft breeze, a noble strands of grass having a silent ball. 

“That’s true. But both can still be your homes whenever that day comes. Just like how your citadel and Castle Krakenburg are your homes right now.”

“But they’re so close together, they’re virtually in the same place.” Teresa snorted, a wizened look seized the old mans face whilst he pondered what she had said.

“I suppose that home is what you make of it.” He began to explain. “If your heart is drawn to two places they can both be your home, no matter how far away they are. To some it may be the place where they sleep or the building where all their fondest memories were birthed. Some people don’t even have homes.”

Teresa turned her gaze to look at him. But his stare was extended into the hills beyond Windham, to the milky stars that swirled amongst the dark backdrop of the sky. 

“I think the only time you know where your home or homes are is when you’re away from them. The yearning you feel when you’re out on the battlefield for your spouse and a warm hearth, or when you’re at sea or standing sentinel on a wall. When you know that longing feeling you’ll know where your home is.”

“I see.” She acknowledged, understanding where he was coming from but not having the experience to relate to it. She had barely left Windham and had never been beyond the territory of Krakenburg, except for when she was raised in Castle Makaras. She had never been too far from the place she called her home.

“One day, when you go out into the world. You’ll know that feeling.” Gunter gently sighed. “To that I promise.”

“Maybe it’s not just the whole home thing I’m fussed about.”

“Oh?” Gunter questioned, but she did not know if he had turned back to look at her, because her gaze was focused on some small trees sheltered amongst the grass. Their weak bodies swayed strongly in the wind, even though it was nothing more than a soft exhalation, she wondered how they had stayed up long enough to grow even that tall.

“I think that it’s just because this is the first time we’ve had to say goodbye to somebody that’s been there our whole lives – well, almost all of mine.” Her voice was so soft it might have been lost on the gentle wind, the breath that rolled from the hills in their stony slumber.

“She’s not dead, milady.” Gunter gently reminded. “She has only moved locations.”

“I know, I know.” Teresa reassured, leaning over to pat Velvet’s neck.

“It may be because it’s something new. None of your siblings have ever not come back to Castle Krakenburg, so the idea of one of them not returning for a long time and never being entirely settled there again has shaken you.” Gunter explained, the corners of her mouth perked up into a smile. 

“Yes, that’s it.” Teresa agreed, glad that he could put a precise finger on what she was thinking. Maybe he could also understand what she was experiencing, a perceptive smile seemed to suggest that he did. “Although I don’t think that ‘shaken’ is the right word.”

“Maybe ‘unsure’ is the appropriate word to use then.” Gunter corrected himself.

“That sounds better.” 

“Ahhhhh.” Gunter extended the vocalisation out gently and for a long time, as if he suddenly understood something in greater depth. “You’re questioning the idea of where home is because, to you, home is a place where all your family is. So princess Camilla dwelling in another castle has made you unsure.”

“…Yes.” She sombrely nodded to herself, thinking about how much sense it made as she registered a moment of revelation. 

“There’s no need to be so disheartened about it, milady.” Gunter grinned, extending a hand to squeeze her shoulder. “You have memories of all the fun times you shared as a family within those walls. And when Camilla returns it will only strengthen your feeling of kinship.”

Teresa nodded in agreement and slunk into conversation with Gunter. Whilst she listened to stories about his hometown she found that her gaze had drifted up to the stars. He talked of when he married his wife and when the night speckled cloth had bound their arms, reminding her of what she had said about being together under the same sky.

The religious verse dictated that the sky was like a giant roof that housed everyone. A strange thought occurred to her that began to cheer her up. Just because Camilla was not underneath the same stony ceiling as her or in residence in their ancestral home, it did not mean that she was divorced from them. She could look up into the sky at a star and Camilla could look up and see the same bright orb, as if it were an ornament hanging from the rafters. 

It was not like her sister had moved to a land foreign to this sky; the same sky, the same stars and the same moon protected the whole of Nohr. It sheltered them all like one big family. So as long as her sister could look up at the same sky, they were both home. 


	8. A Poet's Hearth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iago has an idea to favourably develop Teresa's tome training that involves an interest that they both share.

# ~ A Minute Before Dawn~

# Blooming Moon Arc

### Chapter Eight: A Poet’s Hearth

Watching Teresa spar with Gunter had made Iago think. 

She eloquently handled the wooden training blade, dodging, parrying and blocking with master precision. Occasionally Gunter would catch her off guard, just as she was becoming overconfident, but she would get up and dive right back into combat with zeal. 

But Iago could not understand why she did not do the same with tomes.

He took a deep inhale of the horse smelling air as he watched her take a break with Gunter, the two of them smiled and panted, starting to talk about something he could not hear. Her porcelain skin had turned a faint shade of pink from the exertion and she only wore some lightweight breeches and a loose grey tunic. 

She had trained with him for a few months now, yet there had been little improvement in her casting. It had been a relief when some selenite had reacted well with her to assist her congestion, but aside from that minor breakthrough she had achieved close to nothing. The minor hexes he had tried had also proved fruitless.

It vexed him. 

When her father had first demanded his assistance he had laughed at her other tutors for their incompetence, now his gut only stung with his own potential to fail them both. 

Gunter lightly placed a hand on her shoulder before showing her a different way to block. Teresa’s bright giggle echoed around the large, dirt caked courtyard when she countered similarly to what had been shown. Once she had corrected the block her grin only widened, Gunter beamed proudly with her success. 

With a sigh he looked back down at the book in his hands, an ancient thing that had not been touched or cared for in centuries. It was both heavy and thick, and bound in dulled red leather, but its musky perfume was pleasant and enticing. Tarnished iron corner pieces and medallions made the book appear more like a grimoire. It even had a lock although it was broken and the key had been misplaced a long time ago. In the centre a polished piece of quartz looked to be the only thing untouched by time. Maybe this book would help her, or else his pride and reputation were at risk of blemish. 

As he flicked over another faded page, the ink completely gone in some spots, he hoped that this ancient parchment mind would provide the pieces to the living puzzle that was Teresa. Her archaic blood was incredibly potent as expressed by her pointed ears, slitted pupils and piercing canines. Her apparent draconic blood should be rife with magic. 

Lips pursed, he peered at a page, trying to read the runic words that had disappeared or guess what would fit between visible ones. The detailed drawings of the dragons had also faded just as the real ones had. But this page only seemed to talk about bonding; and like the section on draconic magic this worn page apparently would not give up such secrets as if to spite him. 

Yet another laugh from the young princess caught his attention, this time she was trying to avoid Gunter’s grasp for the ball in her hands. The both of them seemed to be treating their training like some game. 

“You.” He raised a finger towards her pink haired maid, beckoning her closer.

“M-me?” She questioned, slowly walking over with hands clasped behind her back.

“Yes, you.”

“Would, my lord like some tea?” The girl grinned, her icy eyes becoming smaller and eager to please. He smiled to her and then pointed his finger towards the sparring pair, if you could call them that.

“No, no.” Iago calmly began, looking towards the duo. “Do they always train this way? It does not seem productive.”

“Oh, yes.” Felicia lightly sighed. Her tone seemed somewhat relieved. “They usually start off quite serious but then towards the end they lighten up.”

“Have they always been like this?” He continued to question, watching Gunter snatch the ball from her. The princess pouted and began her assault to reclaim the leather item, as if he had snatched the crown that she craved. 

“Yes, they have trained this way for years. I don’t remember a time when they didn’t begin to finish a training session like this, my lord.”

“I see.” Iago pondered, leaning his elbow on the book and then his chin on the back of his hand. The fingers of his free hand drummed against the warm leather and produced a calming hollow sound. 

He had been able to come earlier today, yet Teresa had chosen to continue training profusely with her sword and combative techniques until her session with Gunter was over. Deciding to watch how she reacted with another tutor was proving to be a lucrative idea. From what he had seen she treated him differently to the aging knight.

Over the past few months he could almost palpate her tension, the frustration, annoyance and confusion seething off of her like that of an angry wolf. Although she heeded his instructions well she did not practice nearly enough with her weaker area in magic, but with swords it seemed like she could train an entire day without a break. 

Sometimes when he had confronted her with the need to train more or change her delivery she had become even more annoyed. This only confused him now that he could see her responding clearly and without conflict when Gunter commanded her. 

“They seem quite close.” He mumbled to himself, not moving from his position when Felicia unexpectedly responded.

“Oh, they are.” The maid airily noted. “Their bonds are strong, I don’t think that there’s anything Princess Teresa wouldn’t do for Sir Gunter.” 

“Hmm.” He agreed, thinking back to the advice he had reluctantly acquired from Xander. He had once trained her too and evidently he had not had issues.

The crown prince had explained to him that she had obediently complied with everything he had said and had gone beyond what was needed in order to expand herself. It had been hard ignoring the distasteful sneer on Xander’s face when he had been explaining it all. Yet their associations had always been political and mutual, even if they did despise each other. 

Some of her other tutors in both sword and tome had told a very different story to him, one more akin to what he was undergoing. They had all experienced difficultly when trying to get her to comply with their wishes; some of them had even called her ‘deliberately abrasive’. 

Teresa snatched the ball from Gunter in a surprisingly quick extension and triumphantly held it up with one hand, the other sitting on her hip. Gunter said something and she scowled before he shook his hands and laughed it off. Eventually the young princess joined in whilst she kicked at the dirt, her teal hair had become a little messy and sweat made her brow sheen slightly. 

But he could not help sitting up and leaning closer, intrigued with a specific gesture, a single look that seemed to throw one of her puzzle pieces into place. If he had not been watching so intently he would have missed the subtle action. 

Gunter reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder again, pushing down a little more forcefully, keeping eye contact and softly smiling for a longer period of time. It seemed so intimate. Filled with the trust of a strongly forged bond, similar to the way he had seen Teresa act around her other siblings, although her bond with Xander was currently crippled. This had not been the only time he had seen this either. When the pink haired maid, Felicia, had interacted with her in the past he had seen a similar closeness, friendship. Even when he had witnessed Felicia trying to teach her to throw knives, the teal girl had not angrily pouted once. She had only revelled in the challenge and continued through each failure until, after weeks of solid practice, she had learnt how to throw them, even if she was not proficient.

Quickly he made a mental list of successful and unsuccessful tutors, anybody that he knew of whom had tried to teach Teresa anything. All of Teresa’s magic and some sword tutors against Gunter, Xander and Felicia. The thing that the futile instructors had in common was Teresa’s derisive and ‘abrasive’ attitude; whilst her successful tutors all held a strong bond with her, one that he currently lacked. 

A small quiver of accomplished laughter slipped from his lips whilst his fingers tapped smugly on the book. He could not believe that he had missed something so simple. If he was correct, this would make her problems much easier to solve because she would have more intent to achieve, something she seemed to lack at this point. He eagerly waited to test his idea, but this time he would have to treat her more harshly in her training. 

It took another few minutes before she approached him and began casual conversation, taking a small break and sitting beside him to chat in a pleasant mood. Iago carefully carried the conversation, watching her body language and listening to what she had to say to find any topics she was interested in, but nothing too interesting arose.

When the time came to teach her he changed his demeanour, becoming slightly stricter than usual. And as he predicted her happy behaviour gradually changed to the abrasive, uncooperative one. 

After a late supper he silently lay in bed, the covers had been warmed and felt heavy enough to make his eyes wearily flutter. Usually this time was reserved for thoughts on politics or tasks he had been given. Technically he had not strayed when his thoughts drifted on how to befriend her. 

Even with her discontented attitude during training she always seemed pleasant when greeting and conversing with him before and after their drills, meaning that she was still open to befriending him. But what was the quickest way?

Whilst his eyes tiredly flickered and became itchy with a lust to sleep he made out the blurry form of a book. Reading was one of her favourite past times, when he came to bleed her he would often find her in the library. Immersing himself in literature was one of his favourite past times as well. Maybe that would be the best place to start, whilst one of their minds was buried in the throws of a book. But for now, satisfied with a possible solution, he allowed his eyes to take the rest they had passionately begged him for. 

His sleep was dreamless.

# *

Today was her day off; Teresa had rightfully earned it due to her rigorous training yesterday. But even then she could not sleep till late morning like she craved, all she had gotten was an extra hour before she had roused herself from the clutches of a pleasant dream. Without changing from her sleeping clothes she meandered to the library. 

As she walked the cool stone numbed her feet and the wind gently kissed her snowy flesh to make it bumpy and pale. She clutched the light blanket to herself and drew it tighter round her shoulders, the itchy grey wool managed to capture her heat and radiate it back through her nightdress. It was a thin garment of white linen, the hem of the dress came up to her mid thigh and the straps at the top were thin alongside the mid-chest cut. 

She took the back way to get to the library, the one less crowded with servants. Walking within the castle without one of her maids or butlers was a rarity she relished, and sometimes a peaceful time in the library or small garden was something she craved. Teresa suspected that her staff knew that too, because on her days off they never disturbed her too much. 

But when she quietly walked through the ancient doors that guarded the plethora of books she could tell that she was not alone. The wooden floors and carpet felt warm and a glowing light came from the centre of the chamber. Silently she padded along, keeping her steps slow and light so that whoever was there would not hear her. The old musk of books, leather and smoky herbs did not seem interrupted, yet the air felt different, eliciting a strong curiosity from her. It was almost as if her territory had been slightly disturbed by the presence but not in a bad way; clutching the woollen blanket closer to her shoulders she progressed.

Quietly she stalked around the corner of a bookcase, where her gaze fell onto Iago. His back was to her, his body propped along the couch Xander typically lounged on, ankles and feet dangling over the end because he was too tall for it. His black hair had been done up into a bun, a style she had never seen on him before, yet it was small and not neatly groomed as if he had throw up the long hair from his front in annoyance. Even now she could still see that he wore the patch, and his slate clothes were incredibly casual, perhaps the ones he had been sleeping in. It still seemed early enough for that. 

On the table a single cup of tea had been placed down in a cream cup, it steamed alongside a bowl of thick porridge. When her stomach grumbled she clutched the blanket even closer and felt the pangs of morning hunger slowly stir as if waking. Through the burning herbs in the fireplace she could not smell his food and drink. 

Her mother still gazed down from her high abode, watching the foreign man with great intent and an everlasting smile. This only made Teresa cheekily smirk as well; every fibre of her being desperately wanted to sneak up on him and surprise him, but this was her father’s councillor and not her sibling. Such behaviours would not do. Not for somebody that came to bleed and teach her. 

Gently she rocked her weight from the balls of her heels to her toes and back again, preparing to either walk away or take some noisy steps to alert him of her presence. She still wished to read, even though she would have company now. His strictness in training did not seem to relate to their casual conversation, and chatting with him now did not seem so daunting. She swallowed a sigh and inhaled the old scents, letting the light, tingly feeling of a deep breath envelope her lungs. 

“I was not expecting to see you here, Iago. I thought that you would be returning to father by now.” She said, taking some louder steps over the rich carpet towards her seat by the fire. 

Iago did not turn around to answer, nor did he look up from his book or stand to bow to her. “Today he speaks mostly of slum control, I believe that this is Ganz’s area of expertise more than mine. I have been permitted some leniency for my hard work lately.”

As she walked past she glanced down at the book. It was relatively new, the cream leather looked young and the ink on the pages screamed out what it wanted to share. 

“Eck.” She impulsively sneered, she did not wish to speak of Ganz in her abode, and his presence in even so much as words was not welcomed here. Instinctively her gut began to wring itself, but she could not tell if it was because she reacted negatively in front of his associate or because she feared the large man. Maybe it was both pestering her at the same time. 

“You despise him so?” Iago bluntly asked, still not looking up. She glanced at his face that seemed neutral as ever. 

“No, he is just difficult” She denied; it would not be wise to personally admit her dislike of him to somebody strongly associated with the monstrous man. After promptly sitting and hanging the blanket over the back of the she extended her grasp to a nearby bookshelf. Her fingertips scraped against the top of a book but could not reach it. Teresa muttered curses to herself for not grabbing a book before she hat sat down; the chair was already comfortable and begged some of her aching muscles not to move. Sighing with exasperation and furrowing her brow, she gave up and tried to reach for another. 

“Here, please let me.” Iago eagerly huffed, placing a thumb and scrap of paper between the pages he was reading and extending an arm to point towards the bookcase. “Which one would please you?” 

“Anything will do.” She sighed. Remembering Cawdorian’s were people who were generally sticklers for specifics, she picked a green covered book in front of her. “The green one.”

Without saying so much as a word he moved the book with an elegant hand gesture, she extended to grab it and smiled. Using magic to move a book was a basic thing, but nobody had bothered to teach it to her yet. 

“Thank you.” She quickly smiled and looked to the cover, turning the warm book in her hands. Its haggard face was covered with cracked silvery motifs that did not make any distinct images, just random swirls. Hidden amongst the swirls she found the title of the book: ‘Nohrian Tales’.

“Your welcome.” He smiled, before shifting to a seated position, although his side still leaned against the arm of the couch. “That book is well worn, do you enjoy Adler’s works?”

“Yes.” She smiled to herself and continued to look at the book, letting her fingers flick through the closed pages. “I enjoy the works of the old masters, their poetry, plays and stories are so vivid.”

She watched as a smirk lightened the man’s face. His eye seemed to brighten as well, shimmering a tone of vibrant rust in the amber light. 

“I have spent many evenings have been spent relishing in their work. Adler’s works are very engaging.” He purred, tilting the book in his hand from side to side. “This morning I have become lost in Siegbert’s ‘The Orchid Field’.” 

“Ah.” She grinned, leaning forward to engage more in the conversation. “You must be craving the sun if you are reading summer poems.”

“Those with the lifeblood of Cawdor always crave the sun. It is part of having northern lineage.” He shrugged, placing the book down on the table and taking a sip of the scalding hot tea. She winced a little; surely he would burn his throat if he drank it at that temperature. Once he was done he chuckled and placed the cup down. “Those from the north also like their tea scalding hot. It is far too cold there to drink anything at any other temperature.”

“All the more reason for thoughts of summer.” She acknowledged.

“Indeed.” Iago agreed, slowly bouncing his leg up and down and tilting his head to the side. 

“Which one of the old masters is your favourite?” She curiously interrogated, the man sitting opposite from her seemed to fit the idea of being interested in such arts. With his dramatic, almost play worthy, outfits and grooming, it only seemed logical. Even though she adored their arts her clothing was mostly simple, however the ebony and gold armour she was supposed to don held a distinct dramatic flair. 

“Kanna is my favourite.” He acknowledged, smiling when she laughed.

“This will sound ironic.” She began, trying to recover from her amused laughing. “But your reading Siegbert’s lighter works seems so out of place with Kanna’s dark, brooding ones.”

“Yes, that’s true.” He admittedly recognised, nodding his head as his gaze fell toward the carpets, then back to her. “But its nice to have a diverse field when it comes to the arts, no?”

“Of course, of course.” She hastily agreed, leaning back into the couch and crossing her legs. “It would be a shame if somebody were to focus on a specific type of poetry. They would miss out on what all the rest have to offer us.”

“Adler’s works are mostly romantic.” Iago casually observed, flicking a finger at the green book. “I take it that you would like Odette’s pieces as well.”

Teresa smiled; Odette was one of the few women who had ranked amongst the great Nohrian poets. Her works were varied in tone, but she birthed good romance sonnets 

“I do. Sometimes her work can be a bit …” She trailed off and cringed, trying to find the right word. “… Sappy. But her tone can be refreshing after reading others like Dietrich and Kanna.”

“Truer words have never been said.” Iago agreed, taking another sip of tea. Teresa’s stomach growled when she looked at the porridge, loud enough so that they could both hear it.

“Sorry.” She slightly raised her hands and lowered her head in embarrassment, pursing her lips together momentarily. “I have not eaten yet. On my days off I like to read before I indulge in breakfast.” 

Late morning was usually the time Jakob or Flora brought her food, and by then she was usually so entrenched within the old pages that her hunger would be forgotten. 

“If you would like you can eat my food.” He stated, pushing the white bowl towards her. Steam still rose from the appetizing sludge that was oats and milk, fruit, berries and seeds were scattered on top, her stomach growled again.

“Oh, no.” She shook her raised hands and sheepishly denied. It was rude to steal from others, however cheeky exceptions were made when her siblings were involved. “I do not wish to take food from your mouth.”

“My staff had already served me before your butler found me here. He brought me some more with my tea.” He explained, watching her as she sighed and shook her head, massaging a temple. 

“I hope that he did not treat you disrespectfully.” She ruefully stated whilst raising her hand to nervously scratch the back of her neck before she flicked her long hair over her shoulder. “He’s not very pleasant to many other people.”

“An odd quality for a butler.” He thoughtfully mused whilst handling the teacup. “Mine are so subservient, yours have more of a bite to them.”

“So he was rude.” She pouted in disapproval. “One day his insolence will be the end of him.”

“He was not too rude, perhaps more surprised.” Iago reassuringly stated, however she did not believe the entirety of what he had said. 

“But he was still rude to you, a noble lord.” Teresa pointed out with a condemning sigh, frowning when Iago nodded.

“In your case I think that this is a good thing.” He stated, pushing the porridge more towards her when her gluttonous stomach began to growl for food again. 

“How so?”

“Having such a fiercely protective servant is good for your security. I’m sure that he will never let harm come to you.” Iago said.

Teresa took the time to pause and think about what he had said, was he implying a romantic attachment to Jakob? Slowly she answered, not wanting to rouse suspicion of something that did not exist, for Jakob’s sake rather than her own.

“We were essentially raised together.” She acknowledged, treading carefully. She was aware that despite his nice demeanour he was keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. It seemed to be engrained into his nature. “I think that Gunter, Jakob, Felicia and Flora made it bearable to live here when father said that this would be my residence. At first it was hard being separated from my real siblings, but they became like another family to me.”

He only nodded with this, the smallest of smiles flirting with the edge of his lips. “I see.”

When her stomach rumbled again she grabbed a nearby cushion and cuddled it to her lap, crossing her legs in her armchair. This time Iago stood, picking up the tempting bowl and placed it onto the cushion in her lap.

“Please, princess. I respectfully request that you eat.” He tilted his head to the side and gave her a gentle smile. “Why waste good food?”

“You are sure?” She reluctantly asked, furrowing her brow with a little guilt.

“I would not have placed the bowl in your lap otherwise.” This time he crouched down to say this, squatting low with his elbows resting on his knees. Now he was resting just below her, a singular eye looked up to her. “Please.” 

Reluctantly she swirled the porridge around to mix the berries and seeds atop it. When she lifted a spoonful of the thick, sludge-like mixture her stomach growled again. She shovelled the oats into her mouth, savouring the surprise hint of cinnamon and honey along with the smooth texture before swallowing. Some remained on her lips so she discretely licked it up and gave him a small, pursed smile. 

“Are you pleased now that I have eaten something?” She asked, tapping the spoon against the rim of the bowl. The porridge did taste good; the crunchy apples complimented the cinnamon and honey nicely.

“Yes.” He grinned, standing up and laxly pacing back to his plush seat. “Is it good?”

“It is.” She answered back, her stomach begging her to take another bite. So she did, a larger spoonful this time. 

She briefly paused and looked back down to the oats, thinking as she chewed slowly. Over the past few months he had been generously trying to help her. They did tend to tensely bicker when she trained, but even then he always treated her respectfully. 

When he engaged her in casual conversation he always listened and did not mind the spontaneous talk, unlike so many of her other tutors. And now he was offering her his food, a kind gesture and a selfless one. When she did not speak she watched him tilt his head to the other side, the single rust eye inspecting her with great curiosity. It was like he was trying to pick her brain.

She was just about to open her mouth to thank him when she remembered his position as father’s advisor and retainer. It was his job to protect father and do what he was told, not only that but it was his unofficial duty to make sure that the royal children were treated well. Teresa took another spoonful of porridge and chewed on it. 

But she was still intrigued that he was interested in poetry and plays. Talking about that would be more interesting, so she decided to change the topic from her breakfast habits back to more mutual territory. 

“So which of Kanna’s works is your favourite?” Another spoonful of porridge entered her mouth as she waited for his response. His eye drifted up and to the side in thought, a deep one that seemed well considered.

“My favourite would probably be ‘The Shadow War’”. Something in his eyes glimmered, an amusement tainted with something a little darker. The same glisten that riled within him when they had been discussing her previous tutors reluctance to hex her during their first session.

“That is the one about the first great war with Hoshido, yes?” She inquired.

“You are correct.” A deep purr resonated in his voice, as if content with her basic knowledge of the poem. “It tells the tale of deceit and betrayal.”

She was not too familiar with the poem. Teresa listened almost silently as he explained the poem and the artistry behind it, finally becoming less guilty about eating the porridge. After he had finished explaining what the piece was about he sighed as if exhausted and leant back into the seat. Some of the long strands of hair loosened from the bun and fell over his shoulder. With another heavy exhale he corrected his hair, still letting the small bun appear uncharacteristically sloppy. 

“It seems so strange that you are wearing your hair this way. I do not think that I have ever seen it tied up before.” Her voice sounded a little thick from eating the porridge. 

“I only tie it up when my hair annoys me or if it is too hot, sometimes to sleep as well.” He laxly explained whilst fiddling with the bun, when he was satisfied he leaned back against the side of the chair. 

“It rarely gets anything that could be considered too ‘hot’ here.” Teresa observed, pointing her spoon towards him.

“When I travel to my uncle in the south it can scorch my northern bones.” He stated. She had forgotten that he was of Stein heritage; they were the southernmost territory that had been having issues with saboteurs burning crops as of late. 

“Ah, I see.” She stated, listening to some approaching footsteps, Teresa had not noticed the door open. Briskly, Jakob appeared from behind the corner of the same bookshelf that she had approached from. Once he had arrived he cleared his throat so that Iago would not be surprised, however she had a feeling that he had sensed his entrance. 

“Princess, Lord Iago.” Jakob bowed, adding some bite to the ‘lord’ part of Iago’s title, probably without thinking about it. “Is there anything I can do for you?” 

Before she answered she registered another set of footsteps, these were lighter and bouncy, from experience they sounded like the steps of a woman. “I’m fine, Jakob.”

“As am I.” Iago clarified, standing from his seat and turning to face towards the grey butler. One of his staff members, a young girl with pale skin and tumbling brown hair, arrived. In her hands was a message sealed with black wax, Nohr’s seal in the centre. It likely came from a General that had arrived or a minister that wished for council from Nohr’s Master Tactician and Chief Advisor. 

“My lord.” The small woman humbly bowed her head and handed the message to Iago, with adept hands he promptly undid the seal and read the letter. The maid of crimson, black and gold remained as still as Jakob, as if they were statues competing in trials of complete immobility. Only their master’s voice would break them from their rivalry. 

“Time?” He requested, crumpling up the letter and throwing it into the fire. It hissed and the paper curled up like a black dying rose, its scent masked by the herbs and book musk.

“Eleven twenty-eight, my lord.” The maid monotonously answered. Amber light from the fire made her bagged eyes appear even more worn and tired than they probably were. Teresa blinked a few times, so many hours had been spent talking and she wondered how she had lost track of them as they passed by. 

“I thought so.” Iago quietly mused and quickly turned around to her, bowing his head. “My lady, General Daniela from our southern guard has requested my presence.”

“Specifically our crops, yes?” Teresa specified, placing the cooling bowl down on the solid table and standing, still clutching the maroon cushion to her chest. 

“Yes.” Iago agreed. 

“Jakob, send message to Lilith to prepare Iago’s horses.” Teresa politely commanded, the butler bowed to her and swiftly left through the doors directly ahead of them. 

“Well, I had best leave as soon as possible. It is not good to keep Generals waiting, many of them do not have a knack for patience outside of combat.” Iago bowed to her, a humble gesture that seemed slow and perfectly executed. 

“Ride safely back to Windham, Iago.” Impulsively she smiled and dismissed him with a wave of her hand. His eye lingered on her face for a moment longer before turning away. Teresa watched him walk to the end of the library, to the greater doors, but as he left he turned back to say something.

“Enjoy Adler’s stories and poems, my lady.” And then he was gone, his maid following eagerly behind his long strides, as if having trouble keeping up with him. 

She leant forward and scooped up some of the porridge, it had cooled down quite a bit since she had walked in. Her fingers snagged the book; whilst she lazily chewed she sat back down and leant back into the chair, turning to a random story.

Lazily, her eyes drifted over the text, but no matter how many times she tried to read the first line she could not. Her mind was already wandering somewhere else, to the idea of something more real to her. 

General Daniela would have entered the city from the south, and the horses of her travelling party would have been stabled somewhere towards the top of God’s Ring, either in the south or east stables. Maybe she had taken Silas with her. It would be nice to see her old friend, to find out if he had been promoted yet, if anything exciting had happened to him down in the southern border guard. Surely he would have exhilarating tales to tell her, he might have seen action against Hoshidans or bandits, maybe even against the notorious group that was burning Nohr’s largest crop fields. 

Leaning towards the table allowed her to place the book down and stand up in a clinical motion, she would get back to it later, even though she had read that tale a thousand times before. The promise of more rousing, real sagas from a friend urged her to quietly leave the library and hurriedly pace back to her own quarters. 

After climbing the almost never-ending circle of dull stairs and reaching her private room she quickly got undressed. She briefly paused, considering her open closet of clothing and uniforms. Blending in with the soldiers there was a must, meaning that she could not wear anything too elaborate or richly detailed. Halfway through her selection Felicia wondered in, where Teresa quickly explained her intent.

“So you’re planning to head to the God’s Ring.” Felicia passively mused, running her fingers against the varying assortment of clothing. This was not the first time Teresa had snuck out to go there without escort or permission. But she did need the help of Felicia, Lilith, Odin and a Dark Mage in her service, Vadoma, in order to successfully get there and back. 

“Yes, I’m sure that she would have taken Silas with her.” She confidently asserted, only clothed in her underpants. “I’m going to dress as a Dark Mage again and then warp over.”

“How do you plan on getting back?” Felicia asked, walking over to stand by Teresa, then reaching up to retrieve the Dark Mage garbs. She was supposed to wear them when training, but she rarely did. Not even Iago had made her don them. 

“Odin will be able to warp me back here. He did it last time, remember?” Teresa reminded her, the pink-headed girl nodded and a soft smile played on her lips. The mention of his name made her eyes brighten and her gaze fall down to the gowns, temporarily she seemed lost in her own thoughts. 

“Oh, y-yes.” She stuttered, gesturing for Teresa to leave the closet. “I had forgotten that he’d agreed to do you that service.”

“I often forget how much Odin wants to help others out as well.” She admitted before taking a seat in front of her mirror and vanity. The birch was a lighter colour than most of the wood in her Citadel. “Would you please pin my hair, Felicia?”

“Of course.” She agreed, picking up the ivory brush from a delicate box and running it through her unruly hair, needing to tug a few times to loosen some malignant knots. Whilst they discussed an alibi as to where she was supposed to be Felicia carefully fastened her long hair so that it appeared as a short bob. Teresa still did not understand how Felicia managed to work such magic, but her ability to style her hair in almost any way truly was both mystical and incredibly convenient. Just to create some difference, Felicia arranged a thicker strand along her brow; it sloped down to the left and appeared similar to a fringe. 

Once Felicia was done with her hair, Teresa wasted no time sliding on the Dark Mage underclothes. She removed her underwear and slid on the one piece that constituted the torso section of the outfit. The navy chest piece hugged closely to her small bosom and held them up comfortably, her feminine abs were visible beneath the mesh, shadowed lightly and in a pleasant way. To her sides some supporting pads eagerly cuddled her hips and were held in place by the tight navy underwear.

With careful precision she slid on the shoes, their slight heels gave her a small boost in height that she appreciated, even if she was still shorter than many other people around her. Navy diamonds played silent sentry to her knees whilst a spiked motif clung to her bare, toned thighs in a striking manner. Felicia helped her pull up her extended gauntlets, the black leather cradled her hand and forearm and the mesh extended to the top end of her biceps, leaving a slither of her pale skin exposed to the pleasant temperament of the air.

Next was her favourite part, the cape. She much preferred the majesty of the Sorcerer’s feathery wings, but this would have to do until she was more proficient with tomes, which seemed an eternity away. The black and gold lined outside of the silky cape flicked around her outside and slithered along her flesh, making her skin crawl with the pleasant coolness and familiar security. Once she had buttoned it around her neck she moved down to the thick fabric covering the majority of her breasts. Toward the top of each a gold button sat, ready to create a union with the hole in her cape to better secure it. The only vaguely noticeable difference between her cape and a generic one was that the purple lining the inside was a more vivid shade and it glimmered when it was kissed by light. 

Lastly was her headpiece, the most crucial part of her disguise. It would cover her distinct eyes and ears and make her teal hair less noticeable. There were other soldiers with teal hair, so her hair colour would not seem too unusual, but her eyes would have been a dead give away. Black material hung around the outside, falling down to her jaw line to cover most of her wavy teal locks and pointed ears. Along the front, suspended by a golden headpiece that circled the outside of her head, thin black webbing sloped down so that it covered her eyes and nose. It was enough to make her eyes appear a deep shade of brown. Nothing covered her top, leaving the slightly oily hair exposed.

Satisfied with her outfit Felicia painted her lips to make them appear a fleshier shade and shadowed her cheekbones with some powder to make them less soft and more defined. Teresa waited whilst she scurried off to find Vadoma, a Dark Mage from Rever territory with mellow brown hair and a gangly form. The tall girl entered with a smile and bowed gracefully, knowing that she had been called for her warping talents.

“Where would you like to travel today, milady?”

“The God’s Ring, southern stables, if it’s possible.” Teresa requested, standing and confidently striding over to the girl. She had always been of great help, but she was still training. Asking her to place her towards the south of the God’s Ring was the most distant area she had ever requested.

“Every mage has their range, milady. That far south is beyond my talent and potential for warping at this time, but if you would like I could drop you toward the north of it. Odin will have to warp you back.” She explained.

Teresa nodded and composed herself, keeping calm to prepare for the warp. “That’s fine. I don’t mind the walk.” 

Without a word Vadoma raised her hands and began the incantation to warp her. Tingling wriggled around her skin as if wet worms crawled upon it, a static feeling and pressure grew as if she were going to be struck by a bolt of lightening. The runes flowed around her, menacingly circling closer. Felicia meekly waved goodbye and exited through the door, to Teresa her pink-headed friend seemed unnerved by the prospect of a person simply disappearing before her eyes.

With a sudden painless jolt and before she could even blink she was gone, away within a closet of stone confined within an ancient wall. A familiar thrill of independence jerked her muscles and fastened her fluttering heart; it made her wildly grin. A lengthy exhalation calmed her down, but it still felt all too good to walk around without explicit permission. It felt even better to do something by herself and unguarded. 


	9. An Unbidden Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After travelling to God's Ring to try and find her childhood friend, Silas, Teresa gets some unwelcome company.

# ~ A Minute Before Dawn~

# Blooming Moon Arc

### Chapter Nine: An Unbidden Shadow

After slinking out of the familiar closet that had been the receiving point for her previous warps, Teresa began walking south, determined to see if her friend dwelled amongst Daniela’s soldiers. To stop people from interfering with her she maintained a brisk walk, as if she had some important task to conduct for a higher up or a place she needed to be. But no matter how hard she tried to keep a neutral expression, the trace of an excited smile lingered on her lips.

Excited to try and find her friend and tread unhindered by her staff. 

Walking amongst these soldiers was a dangerous thing. Sometimes the line blurred between if it were unsafe because she was a princess or if it were risky precisely because she was pretending not to be. 

But her Dark Mage uniform made her feel oddly safe and ordinary. These garbs were her favourite to don when she snuck away, they were the best at covering her face and distinctive features, but they left other areas a little bare. It did attract some obvious stares and blatant smiles, but she was very rarely harassed. And when she was a surprisingly gutsy response worked the best to stagger those that had approached her.

Even if she did not want to wear them her Dark Mage robes were the most commonplace garbs she had, meaning that she had to make do with them.

If the people here did uncover that she were a princess without escort and word did get around, it put her at risk from less savoury characters, the type that might have been paid to see her dead. Of course, if it were revealed that she had been moping around like a commoner amongst these soldiers – predominantly men – her father would revoke her privileges. She had been locked away in the Citadel with an almost completely female staff because of such carnal threats and had fought for her rights to come back to Castle Krakenburg.

And if father found out that she was here today, to see the same fledgling boy that had resulted in her initial confinement, she may even see a worse punishment. 

But for now it was a risk she was confident in taking. She had done this plenty of times before and she would continue to act as her southern novice mage until she felt that it was too unsafe to continue. 

As she strode through the hollow ring, passing busy troops and nonchalant horses, a surge of hot adrenaline pumped through her veins. The fuel ignited her simpering smile into a ferocious grin that she could not extinguish. An ecstatic tingling from the warp still bathed her muscles as if it were a thick ooze seeping off of her, occasionally forcing a back muscle or calf to twitch uncontrollably. 

It took a while to walk to the top stable, the one used to accommodate the horses belonging to Windham’s guests, her father’s retainers and their important soldiers. But no matter how hard she searched she could not find Silas.

Teresa took a brief moment to rest, stroking the bristly muzzle of a familiar blood bay shire. It brayed and leaned into her hands, forcing the attention of some lounging stablehands that had not seen her enter. She had been able to sneak in because they had been too preoccupied with their bread, oatcakes and ale. One gangly man even ate some of the apples reserved strictly for the horses, not that his narrow, pox scarred face did not look horsey enough.

“Hey!” One hailed in an abrupt tone, approaching her with a casual jog. His brown hair was rough and his face slightly gaunt, surprisingly he lingered around her height, making him short. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”

“I was just checking my master’s horse amongst the others. It was requested of me.” She began, turning toward the younger of the two boys; he did not appear to be much older than Leo. 

“Huh?” The boy doubtfully droned, eyeing the horse and then her suspiciously. She smiled a little at him and tilted her head to the side as he considered the situation, knowing which question would come next. “And what’s your master’s name, mage?”

She turned around to regard the horse again, but the shire’s height and colouring were unmistakable. At the thought of who she was about to call ‘master’ her stomach painfully complained with sickening distaste. “Master Ganz.”

Just saying it in a respectful way made her feel that she was giving up on some innate resistance, even if she only feigned the courtesy. 

“Really now?” The boy questioned, his tone made it seem to her that perhaps he was unsure of who owned Grobian.

“Of course.” Teresa asserted, turning a little to begin talking about the horse. “I’d think that a stablehand would be able to remember that only Master Ganz and-” she briefly stopped to make sure that she did not say the wrong thing, “-King Garon own horses of this size.”

“Why’d he want you to check the other’s then?” The other, older boy hissed with his approach. Some of the apple’s juices ran down his chin and his mousy hair was patchy. He smelt of horse excrement and hay, making it clear that he was the one that dozed here to keep the horses guarded during sleeping hours.

It was difficult to understand what he had been saying beneath his drawl and the smell of horse on him was distracting. 

“Pardon?” She questioned as the other boy came to a stop. He was taller and more imposing, and the way he stood made her feel as if they were boxing her in. 

“You deaf girl? Why’d he get you to check up on the other horses?” He spat, some chunks of the apple landed on her, with disgust she brushed them away, hating the sticky wet patches that clung to the mesh of her belly. 

Teresa glanced at the horses belonging to Daniela’s host. Admiring the deep, almost bloody pink that their fabric peytrals donned.

“It’s his job to make sure that guests are also seen to, amongst their horses.” It was not a lie, but it was sorely stretching the truth.

“Horseshit!” The elder exclaimed, showering her with some more putrid spit. Teresa grimaced in response and stood taller, sensing the confrontation in the boy’s tone and rigid posture. The other one was just admiring her, gawking at her breasts and stomach like other men had done before him. 

“Oh?”

“Master Ganz barely has any girl soldiers.” The apple boy pointed a thin finger at her, taking a step further into her space. Her frown only grew, she had forgotten about that fact. Most of his soldiers were men, generally because the women were scared off to the service of others. What women were housed within his ranks yielded to some of his other whims, mostly willingly. 

“I’m one of them.” She lied.

“A mage?” The boy sneered, surveying her like his younger counterpart. “Don’t think he has many of ‘em either. Most mages belong to Sorcerer’s and the like.”

“Yes, but he does have some.” She asserted. Ganz did employ the services of a few mages, maybe fifty in total. But he had barely ever used them in combat, or so she had heard. The small group that belonged to him were more likely a flexible unit that Iago had given to him to make his host more dynamic. Amongst them all of Ganz’s female troops dwelled. 

All eight of them. 

“Bet he likes to fuck you bloody...” The other boy wispily mused, crossing his arms and tilting his head to the side whilst still admiring her with a dumb smile. That was not the first time she had heard that spoken, but it was the first time in reference to Ganz. And it made her feel ill, her stomach becoming burning liquid within her and her blood heatedly seething through her veins.

“I’ve seen my job through now, and it looks like you have too. I’ll be leaving.” She forcefully announced, taking a step into their personal space and maintaining some eye contact through the eye veil. 

But the elder boy continued to block her path; the younger had the sense to step back, yielding to her natural authority.

“I don’t believe you.” Apple boy announced, this time not inadvertently spitting on her. “Ganz rarely ever sends anyone to check his horse. We could kill it and eat it for supper and he wouldn’t even know till he came up to get it.” 

“Didn’t you hear me?” She growled, looking up to the elder man but not in a passive way, keeping her back to the stallion’s stable. “We’re done here.”

He still blocked her path. “And didn’t you hear me? Ganz doesn’t often send anyone to check on his horse. Not any of his girls when he does.” 

The smell of horse on him was becoming overbearing and sickened her even more; she could not repress a cough when she accidentally took in a large breath. It did not smell like they had cleaned the stables of horse excrement today, which only aggressively added to the boy's stench. 

Her cough came out sounding more like a laugh; apparently this was enough to insult him. 

“What?” He angrily growled, smashing the eaten apple down on the floor, its corpse dismembering to a juicy pulp. “What are you laughing at slut?”

An impulsive reply slipped from her lips when the heat in her blood flared with judgemental and impatient heat. “It’s funny that you smell of horse shit. What do you do? Fuck them because no girl will touch you?”

He roared and tried to throw a punch, but she managed to evade the slow and clumsy manoeuvre, tripping him over in the process. The boy stumbled into the beam separating the stables and hit his head, possibly falling unconscious. His minor winced and backed away, passively raising his arms in nervous surrender; smart enough to know when a fight was not needed. 

“My Master will hear about this.” She remarked as she left the highest southern stable, if only to strike fear into their hearts. Immediately she progressed toward the nearby lift and took it down a level to the next stable, her riled heart taking some comfort in the hope of seeing Silas. There were more knights in this stable, and they all belonged to Daniela’s unit. But amongst the faces of men tending their horses and stablehands trying to assist them, she could not find him. 

“Young knight.” She hailed a youthful Cavalier woman tending her brown courser towards the entrance of the stable. 

“Mage.” She politely acknowledged, a strange type of military precision underlying her flat tone. Thick strands of curly blonde hair were tied into a ponytail and wriggled down to her shoulders line pale vines. 

“Did a young man named Silas come with you?” She calmly asked.

“I’m new to Daniela’s host so I don’t know many people yet. I don’t know a Silas but if he’s here you’ll probably find him in the southern mess halls on this level and the one below. We’re supposed to eat there.” She explained.

“Any other stables I can check out?”

“We’re all stabled here and the southern one above if you haven’t checked there already.” She stated, leaning over to brush the horse’s neck. Teresa pouted and nodded; if he was here he was obviously done with his horse.

“What about barracks?” Teresa coolly pressed, pleased that the Cavalier did not ask questions about why she wanted to see Silas and why the barracks were of note. Maybe she just assumed that they were separated lovers.

“Not sure yet. As far as I know we haven’t been told where we’re bunking. Sorry.” She said before turning back to her horse, missing Teresa’s thanks as she departed.

Her pace became faster as she searched the mess halls. The first was unsuccessful so she purposefully walked to the next one. It was a little busier but amongst the knights and soldiers, the bustling hall yielded nothing new. Irritably she left and began for the eastern lift, the closest to her. 

As she strode around the level below two men stopped her, each of them trying to suggestively woo her. She ignored them and pressed forward, a small pang of sympathy made her feel for the female mages that were required to wear this most days. 

After continuing on their talking faded back into the busy surroundings, at least for a while. When she had exited the first of this level’s mess halls they greeted her again, this time walking with her and trying to engage her in conversation. 

“You seem awfully free of hand right now.” She remarked, stopping amidst the hallway’s busy corridor. Teresa turned to the chatty wyvern rider and pouted. “Don’t you have anything else to be doing? Your commander wouldn’t like such sloth.”

But she did not give him a chance to respond, only taking another brisk step and slamming into the chest and belly of another person. Before she had even looked up her gut clenched and her pulse picked up in fear, some sweat even began to dampen her brow. Teresa knew who stood before her; she could not have bumped into a worse person.

“Oi.” He growled, waiting for her to take a step back. “Watch where you’re going, girl.”

“I am sorry.” She remarked, keeping her head bowed and tilting it to the side, the two men that had shadowed her had now fled. What her writhing gut would have given right now to flee just as quickly. 

“Sorry…?” He beckoned, stretching out the tone of his voice to indicate that he wanted a title of some kind, acknowledgement of superiority or authority over her. 

“Sorry, sir.” She whispered after a lengthy delay. 

“Not going to look at me when you say that?” He haughtily questioned, moving his hands to his hips in balled fists. Fists that could break her neck as easy as a hunter snapped it in a game bird. Maybe that is what she was, because if he recognised her face this little game of warping to the ring fort would probably be over.

Slowly, she raised her gaze and repeated what she said in a louder tone, throwing in a bit of an accent to try and convince him that an unguarded princess did not stand beneath him. 

“I am sorry, sir.” She repeated, breaking contact with his red eyes almost immediately. Instead looking to his bearded chin. But the slight widening in his eyes and small knowing gape of his mouth told her clenching gut that he had seen through her façade. He had been the only one so far, but there was no way he could have mistaken her, not when one of his duties was to guard her. 

“And what've I snared here?” Ganz pondered with an edge of astonishment, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

“A loyal servant to a noble lord, sir.” She replied, wondering if she could somehow fool him, even laying her southern accent on thicker. 

“I guess you’re your da’s servant, huh?” He sniggered. 

Teresa remained silent, her fingers slowly flexing at her side with unease when he leaned down to whisper in her ear. His breath on it as well as her neck made her skin crawl.

“Bet it took every fibre of you to call me ‘sir’, didn’t it, princess?” He quietly chuckled before standing up. “What a laugh.”

“Don’t tell father.” She hissed as she ordered, taking a few steps past him, but he only followed at her side, as if dropping every other task to make sure that she walked around protected. His hand even idly lingered on the axe at his side. 

“Why’re you even here?” He grinned; something dark seemed to linger behind it. She tried not to look at him, not wanting to know if he was keenly surveying what parts of her currently left little to the imagination of men. 

“That is none of you business.” She defensively replied.

“Your ramming into me made it my business. Tell me.” He pressed; she feared what card he might play next if she refused, so she vaguely answered.

“I wish to find a friend.” She answered with avoidance, feeling him draw a little closer. 

“I thought anyone considered your friend lived with you in Maiden’s Citadel.” He snorted; she looked to him but quivered under his gaze and abruptly turned her head away. 

“They were forced to move away.” She asserted back, fighting the mumble her voice wanted to make. 

“Oh~” Ganz purred, catching onto who she meant, unfortunately. “That Silas boy, is it? Still like him?”

“No.” Teresa abruptly answered, doing her best to stare at him so that he would know her discontent, Ganz appeared unfazed.

“Really now? Why visit him then?” Ganz teased, a smirk playing on his face.

“Because I would like to see how my friend is going.” She bluntly stated, avoiding some oncoming people in the crowd. But before she could part for them Ganz pulled her closer by her shoulder and steered her past. 

“Hey!” She hissed, weakly struggling in his grip because she did not wish to draw too much attention. It was already bad enough that one person had recognised her, she did not need others to see her for what she was. “That is no way to handle me.”

“But you’re not you right now.” He jeered back. “You’re parading around as some Dark Mage and by God I’ll treat you like one so that you don’t get caught out.” 

“Your tailing me might make others suspicious. Don’t you have other work to do?” She pouted, it seemed odd to her that he would try and stop her from being found out. It was possible that he would call on her for reparations or favours later. 

“What? Like I’m not allowed to tail one of my girls? I’ll have you know I always make sure that they’re escorted so that they don’t get harassed by others.” He stated in a matter-of-a-fact tone, ignoring the work question. 

“And don’t your men hassle them?” She asked through her pout.

“No, because they know what’ll happen if they do.” He darkly growled.

“Fine.” She quietly agreed, changing the subject back to how he had discovered her. It would be valuable knowledge to keep better hidden during future escapades. “So what gave me away?” 

“Your walk.” 

“What? Really? Did you even see it?” She inquired, crossing her arms underneath her breasts, trying to partially cover them from any of his explorative gazes but looking awkward instead. With a sigh she reluctantly lowered them to her side.

“I saw it, all right. So I came over to investigate and you just rammed into me.” His deep voice quietly explained before he continued on a differing tangent. “When you’re around I’ll damn well see to your protection regardless of wether you like it or not. When you meander around like this it’s both our asses on the line.”

“I am sure that you would much rather go back to drinking and whoring.” She maliciously teased back, even though she was aware that at this time he would never have been doing either of those things. He sniggered with her statement, only annoying her further.

“I get pleasure from those things…” He grinned, pulling her out of the way of some oncoming knights even though she felt like she was well clear of them. “… From you not so much.”

“Good. I would like to keep it that way.” She frankly confessed, her nose crinkling in disapproval because of his touch and presence. 

“You have this way that you walk.” He resumed his previous statement about her gait. “It’s brisk and confident with a certain air of ‘get out of the way, princess coming through’ to it. To others it might look like you’re in a hurry, but to those that watch you the way you carry yourself is a dead give away.”

“But I was trying to make it look like I was in a hurry. That way less people might disturb me.” She irritably explained.

“It’s still the air, you can sense it.”

“That’s creepy even by your standards.” She harshly sneered.

“Perhaps. But if I know what you look like, how you walk and what your body language does I can find you and I can prolong both of our lives. God forbid you get hurt when I’m around, I’d lose my head.” He pouted before adding, “I don’t like looking after you either - just so you know.”

“You are not stuck with me right now. Remember? I’m not a princess. I am just Maria the Dark Mage from Arland.” She made up the name on the spot.

“Ha!” He barked. “Well, ‘Maria’, I know your secret now so looks like I’m stuck baby sitting you till you crawl back to that virgin’s lair you call home.”

“Or I could give you some money for your drinks and your shiny whores and you could leave me alone just now.”

“You’ve nothing on you.” He observed, gesturing his hand up and down her form in a brisk motion. It seemed like a play on her clothing so it made her cringe.

“Later then.”

“No.” He asserted. “Not with all these other men leering at you.”

“You are leering at me.” She observed with distaste.

“Watching you is part of my job.” He patiently reminded her.

“Not the way you are currently watching me.” She continued to sneer.

“Pah!” He snorted before it turned into an amused chuckle. “I’ve seen it all before and you’re nothing different. Flesh and blood woman, tits like the rest of them.”

“Eck!” Her lip curled up to expose a canine. She thought back to what he had just said and continued to think it strange. His mouth was unfiltered around her; father did not seem to care all too much. Maybe he thought it best that she be exposed to vulgarity; her common soldiers would not be as refined in speech as she could be, although they would certainly be more polite to her. 

Even if he held his tongue around father by now he had surely figured out that he could get away with such language in her presence. She thought that it was because she had never disciplined him for it. Starting now would not change anything. 

“Cover that.” Ganz demanded, staring down some young knights that gawked at her. Each of them cowered away before his mountainous gaze. “Not many people have pointy fangs.”

“Or teal hair.” She gestured towards her exposed colouring at the top of the headdress. “And my hair has not even earned me a strange gaze yet. Besides, people will be looking at other parts of me.” She remarked and smiled, covering her tooth with her lips once more. 

“That’s true, I suppose.” He sighed, fingers tightening around the grip of the axe before relaxing. 

Abruptly she turned and marched into the last of the dining halls, housing some clusters of Daniela’s soldiers. However, her large shadow was quick on her heals, looming over her and likely eyeing off the younger knights to stop them from gawking. It worked effectively, as none of them would look at her when she asked him if they knew Silas. Many of them did not. But a man in the second group she asked said that he did know Silas. Daniela had left him at the border wall.

After he remarked that he was doing well and in good health she sigh and thanked him, then walking towards the end of the hall where she took a seat at the feasting table, stomach declaring that it was suddenly hungry. She must have been searching for Silas for hours. 

She smiled with mild amusement; it seemed that being around her father’s retainers often made her incredibly hungry.

A trencher of mucky brown vegetable stew and bread were quickly placed before her, followed by a flagon of ale soon after. Ganz was given the same treatment, even grinning as he watched the maid retreat. Disheartened she bit into her bread, straightening her posture once she remembered to keep a confident front. There was no way she wanted him to know how unnerved she was around him or upset she was about finding out Silas was not here. Pretending to be unaffected by his presence and her loss seemed like the most logical idea. 

She took another bite of the soggy bread and thick stew mixture. It was quite salty and pasty tasting and the potato and carrot were tasteless and mushy. But the flavour was not a bit deal; it was simple food, if it filled her hungry stomach that was enough. Ganz did not touch his food; instead he played with the rim of the flagon with thick fingers. 

The lack of conversation was awkward in a strange way, however it was probably for the better. Teresa was curiously surprised that they had not intensely argued yet; most of their menial conversation ended that way. Sometimes it even ended with physical fights, often a stupid and characteristically impulsive move on her part.

Slowly, her eyes drifted over the cords of bustling muscle underneath his armour and skin, it seemed difficult to understand how one man could house so much bulk. Not only that, he was fast too. For his size he moved much faster than anyone could imagine, the first time she had sparred with him she had been surprised by the burst of speed. She imagined that his blow would have felt like being run into by a sprinting warhorse, she had been bruised for weeks. It was enough to catch any adversary off guard if they were unaware of it, a lethal combination that seemed to have served him well his entire life. 

“First time I’ve ever caught you gawking at me.” He sniggered, lazily placing his hand over the top of the flagon and turning his gaze to her.

“I was not gawking.” She quickly stated, not averting her gaze.

“I’d call that gawking.” He grinned and leaned more towards her; if she had been a cat the hair on her back would have stood up. “You almost made me blush like a maiden.” “You flatter yourself.”

“Oh?” He frowned, adjusting his seating so that the bench was between his hulking thighs, now facing her. Teresa maintained her properly seated position, legs hidden beneath the table. 

“You are a brute. No woman would have you willingly.” She drawled, then chewing slowly on the salty bread. It seemed to have struck a nerve with him because he angrily scowled and straightened his back to appear more menacing. She could not deny that it was working, but she tried to keep calm. If he had possessed incredible hearing he would have heard how fast her heart beat, although the predator in him might already see how every shred of her being wanted to run away right now.

She could not help but impulsively say that. And now it seemed that kindling had been thrown on the fire. Ganz would only do his part to fan the flame with his equally bloated rashness. 

“Eck, I hate that you run your mouth to me like that.” He quietly snarled, leaning closer. “What do you know about anything like that anyway? You’re just some closeted maiden.”

“I am a woman.” Teresa hissed back, keeping her posture firm. “And if I think that, others will think that too.”

Ganz cruelly laughed as if trying to keep his temper in check. But she could feel the heat of his anger radiating against her own aura of spite and unease. “A woman? Heh. Don’t make me laugh. If it weren’t for the long hair there’d be nothing feminine about you.”

That strike was more harsh than usual. He knew that she hated how unfeminine she was because she had reacted very poorly to it in the past. Usually he saved such insults for when she had hit equally as hard. The dig made her adopt the same stance he currently had, her anger driving away some of the fear like it usually did, if only for a little while.

“Impertinent thug.” She hissed, dragging out the big words to spite him more. From past experience she knew that he hated big words that he did not understand.

“Green boy.” He sneered back. 

She let her mouth fall agape and her fangs peaked from behind her lips, usually it was a threatening gesture that made people back down. She had bitten somebody before with these, they could easily cut through flesh and the man she had sparred with had almost bled out and died. But unlike many the threat did not appear to affect him, it seemed that he had a very warped perspective of what to be afraid of. 

But was a small woman with pointy teeth and little proper battle experience worth being afraid of? 

It was more likely that he was scared of her father’s wrath. And that had not yet fallen on him for defying and fighting with her. It was below her father to deal with such a trivial issues. He had so much more to worry about than his daughter verbally grappling with his retainer. 

“You’ve never even been out of this territory let alone tasted real battle.” He mockingly barked, intruding into a little more of her personal space. Tilting his head to the side to expose his thick neck, as if daring her to do it. However it was shaded by the striking gorget, even if it had been properly exposed to her she doubted her fangs could bite through the muscle. Like the rest of him it appeared too thick. 

“You’ve never even killed.” He jeered with pride, but it was the look in his small eyes rather than the lofty tone of his voice that made her twitch. Within them it looked as if anarchy reigned, and whatever law existed was solely based on his pleasure. 

“I would kill you if I could.” She weakly threatened, but he laughed, drawing attention to the both of them. 

“You couldn’t even beat me in a fist fight.” He teased back, tone still malicious, as it had been before.

“If I could I would take you here and now.” She hissed, bearing her fangs a bit more to drive home the point that she would bite him. 

He gave her a teasing smile and it took her a moment to understand that he had interpreted what she had said another way. Her stomach clenched with nausea again. She did not find his remark funny and knew that he only hoped to annoy her. Quickly tiring of their verbal bout she stood as tall as she could; it was enough to look down on him slightly.

“Father would have you hung if you touched me.” She dryly whispered her reply to his smile.

“Wouldn’t doubt that, but I thought that you’d execute me yourself.” He remarked.

“Even better.” Teresa toothily grinned. “Then I would make you my horses throw rug.”

“Too bad I’m worth something to your da. And in death that would make me something to your horse too.” He smiled back, slowly standing up to become the mountainous man he was. His red eyes held her own with a strange hypnotic authority, something she absolutely detested from him. 

“Yes.” She sighed. “Too bad.”

With that she pushed past him to the exit, stomach full from eating the stew soaked bread. And like a loyal guard dog he followed hot on her heels, but he was faithful to a very different master. 

Silently, she progressed toward the north-western barracks, considering running to shake him from her tail. If she could beat his speed she knew that she would be able to outrun him, her stamina was superior to his. But now that he knew she was here he would find her, or tell father. Ruefully she considered that option, the card Ganz had to play. If he wanted to he could just tell father what she had done here, or he could hold onto that knowledge and use it later, that was not beyond him. 

“You will not tell father.” She ordered with as much authority she could muster.

“Hmm?” He suddenly hummed, his gaze quickly drawing away from the lights around the God’s Ring. 

“You will not speak a word of what I did today to anyone today, especially father.” She reordered. 

“I don’t promise on merit.” He grinned with twisted amusement. “Especially not with people I don’t like.”

“I do not like to bargain with criminals.”

“I’m not a criminal anymore.” He was quick to remind her. “I was pardoned of my crimes.”

“Fine.” She reluctantly agreed. Being absolved did not wipe them from his past. He had still murdered, pillaged and done so much more until Xander had brought him in. Apparently father had seen a better use for his head than on a spike. “But I am your princess, you will do as I bid you.”

“I do as your da bids me. And your da bids me to protect you.” He stated. “He wouldn’t like to know you’d been skulking around here to try find your childhood love. All alone, unprotected and without permission.”

“Was it ‘Parson’ you liked?” She asked, his attention piqued and if he had been a dog his ears would have pricked up. 

“It’s good ale.” He coolly agreed. 

“Would you like five barrels?” She bribed.

“Make it six.” He ordered.

“Five.”

“Six.” He remained steadfast. She grimaced; he knew he was the one in the better position. At the end of this she would have more to lose.

She made a discontented noise and cringed her face. “All right.”

He grinned at that and extended his hand, urging her to shake it. 

“You need practice bartering, princess.” He purred as she quickly shook it. Ahead of her she could see Odin speaking with Lazward, they were a bit far south for the mage barracks so perhaps they were meeting up to talk. 

“Slum lords have more need of it.” She remarked before delicately jogging up to Odin and Lazward, but she could feel Ganz’s gaze on her back as he casually sauntered behind her. 

“And who would this lovely lady be?” Lazward instantaneously started flirting with a slick grin on his face. She ignored him, he might have guessed her identity if she quipped back in her usual fashion. Instead she laid her southern accent on thick, only addressing the yellow mage.

“Odin, you’re needed right now, come.” She firmly stated, beginning to slowly walk past Lazward toward the north.

“I’ll talk with you later.” Odin purred to Lazward before quickly taking her side, he looked slightly strained.

“Looks like you have a shadowy fiend on your tail.” He began to poetically murmur, keeping his vision looking forward.

“Unfortunately.” She agreed, turning back. Lazward was looking on curiously whilst Ganz shadowed at a distance, still close enough to jump into action with any sudden threats. “What brings you here?”

“I was looking for a childhood friend but I’ve been told that he’s not here. I’d like to return home now.” Teresa explained, Odin nodded and cradled his chin in his fingers with dramatic flair. 

“No problem, the ‘Chosen Yellow Light of Nohr’ will get you home in an instant!” He proclaimed a little too loudly, she shushed him with her finger and shook her head.

“Keep it down, Odin. Shout any louder and father will find out I’m here.” She joked, he grinned with a small, sheepish blush and took up a faster pace.

“Ok, ok…” He agreed. “I just need to uncover a deserted space so that no soul can behold the might of my magic, if they witnessed its splendour they’d die!”

“Deserted would be good.” She smiled; it was likely that he would send her off from the old pantry like he usually did. It no longer supplied anything so its mouldy air only welcomed humans when they wanted a quiet place to get away, which was not often.

“Back to your private closet, yes?” 

“Mmm-hmm.” She agreed with pursed lips and a nod. 

As they travelled toward their destination Odin triumphantly beamed and told stories of his victories in battle. His thick foreign accent sounded regal and pure, despite having nothing to compare it with, and it sounded almost identical to Lazward’s. From memory Selena’s sounded more common and tainted by other pervasive elements. 

“So where do you hail from exactly?” She inquired halfway through his epic tale of fighting in a land thick with trees, particularly a giant one. It was not the first time she had asked, and she did not expect a proper response, the three of them were always good at skirting that snippet of information.

“From a land far over the trembling oceans!” He began, it was a typical beginning between the three of them, but they each spoke differently about it. “Where the mountains rise high to kiss the sun and valleys are swarmed by grand flocks of wyverns! Sands swallow whole continents and their neighbours are birthed of union between snow and rock. It is home to dragons-”

“Dragons?” She scoffed, this was the first time any of them had mentioned dragons. 

“Erh, yes…” He nervously remarked, his bright theatrical eyes darkened and became somewhat sombre, as if a terrible memory had been dragged from the depths of his soul. “I thought that they were all dead.” She fleetingly remarked, deciding to dismiss the conversation on dragons because of Odin’s dampening reaction. It surprised her when he continued, this time lacking the drama that livened his voice.

“Not many live where I come from.” He began before wincing, he stopped and turned to her briefly, avoiding eye contact. “Umm, hey.”

“Yes?”

“If you could do me a favour, you shouldn’t mention dragonkin around Lazward. He might take it badly.” His voice was low and soft, almost mournful. She had to strain to hear him even deliver the line.

“All right.” She nodded, cupping the back of her neck awkwardly and placing her hand on her hip. “Look, just forget that I ever asked, I won’t talk about it again.”

“Ok.”

Slowly they began to walk again, this time it was her turn to talk. Instead of tales of combat – which she currently lacked – she talked of plays. The typically lively man beside her remained somewhat sombre, but a soft smile suggested that he was thankful for her efforts to cheer him up. Although, deep within, the curiosity mercilessly nagged, she wondered what terrible thing he had seen involving dragons. It must have been profound if it were enough to cause such a jarring shift in his tone, and she suspected that she would never find an answer. 

Her talk eventually brought them to the door to the pantry; Odin went inside first to check if there was anyone there. Whilst she waited for him to let her in she watched Ganz leisurely stroll over, his head tilted in curiosity. 

“Ok, we’re clear.” He sighed, letting the waiting pair into the dark room, perhaps a rat had died, as it smelt worse than usual. The air inside was also different, stagnant and thick; it stuck to the back of her throat as she drew in every breath, enough to make her choke occasionally.

“Thanks, Odin. I’m glad that you could help me.” She smiled into the dark; she could just make out the figures of the two men through the slits of light permitted entry by the cracks of the door. Giving their sides a ghostly halo. 

“No problem. Are you ready?” He whispered to her.

“Not quiet yet.” She said back. 

“Just tell me when.” He remarked and then fell silent. 

“Ganz.”

“Yes?” He did not whisper and kept his normal deep volume.

“Do not dob Odin in either. He is only seeing me return safely by my own request, and if you keep him secret too I will make sure I give you another gift as well.” She explained, just because he had shadily promised not to say anything about her did not mean that Odin was protected. And how well were either of them protected anyway? Six barrels of ale was a thin price for insurance of their secrecy and life in Odin’s case. 

“Another barrel of ale will do. Make it seven.” His voice sounded teasing but there was no way to read his face or body language. 

“I only have seven barrels right now and I intend to keep one for myself.” She remarked back.

“Fine. Six of ale and one of mead.” He demanded. But for more insurance and perhaps a better chance of seeing him stick to his promise she decided to up the stakes. 

“Six of ale, six of mead. The extra mead is for assurances.” She stated and heard an immediate pleased chuckle, it sounded even more frightening in the dark, especially when it echoed off of the stony walls. 

“Such generosity.” Ganz observed with a purr.

“If you tell anybody any of this, you will be indebted to me.” Teresa bluntly stated.

“All right. Sounds fair for that much of a bonus.” He huffed, the light reflecting off his shoulders allowed her to see them lower in what could be relaxation. She slowly paced over and extended her hand to the dark.

“Shake on it.” She demanded, his hand eventually found her forearm in a frighteningly strong grip before it slithered to cup her hand. He shook to agree on the terms and then remained quiet, and she hoped that her alcohol would be enough to buy his silence. But Ganz’s silence would probably never be entirely bought by anyone except father, but having at least a small profit come his way would make him less likely to blurt anything out, or so she hoped.

“I’m ready to go now, Odin.” She stated as she arrived where she thought the centre of the room was. The yellow mage began to send her away, the same tingling feeling washing over her in preparation to return to her home as if she had never left. 

In the blink of an eye she was gone, fading into the reality of her own closet. 

Felicia looked up from where she was making her bed, smiling pleasantly and totally alone. 

“Did you find Silas, my lady?” She asked, bouncing over to her. She removed the headdress from her head and dragged Teresa over to vanity stand. The pink haired maid forced her to sit.

“No.” Teresa glumly sighed. “One of the men that knew him told me he was still guarding the border wall.”

“That’s a shame, but I’m sure that you’ll see him again at some point.” Felicia optimistically remarked as she tugged all the pins from Teresa’s teal hair, allowing it to flow down her back. 

“I hope so.” She remarked as she watched Felicia turn away to get the brush, instead she knocked the box over onto the floor, something sounded like it had broken inside. 

“Aw-wa-wa-wa!” Felicia worriedly verbalised, it was her typical sound for when she did something clumsy or had forgotten the details of a specific order. She leant down to pick up the wooden box, a bone hairbrush and comb were inside, and Teresa wondered if they had broken.

Felicia hesitantly opened the box, and despite the sound nothing was broken. With a sigh of relief she placed it down and picked up the brush to tend to Teresa’s teal hair.

After her hair was thoroughly brushed they conversed about Teresa’s venture to the ring fort, the stablehands, Odin and the knights that were visiting. She also told her about Ganz, letting her know that he was sort of in on the ruse now and requested that Felicia reserve the ale and mead for whenever he sent somebody up to get them, which would probably be very soon. 

When she was done changing into some lighter clothes they left the private quarters and travelled back to the library to collect some books, it was semi-warm with the start of summer and the stars were pleasant, begging her to read outside. 

Felicia stood as Teresa handed her some books, working their way towards the fire. With a glance Teresa checked the table. The tea and food had been collected, but the books from earlier still sat where they had been left. Without so much as thinking she picked up the green one she had tried to read and then looked at the cream leather book on the opposing side.

‘A Lust for Summer.’ She thought to herself. 

With intrigue she handled the cool leather in her hand and ran her thumb over the pages, a thick piece of paper was wedged into the spine of the book, from where Iago had been reading it. 

She stood silently as she inspected some of the passage – ‘The Orchid Field’. It looked to be a story about a young woman exploring the harvest. 

Without moving she tilted her head and read the line the scrap was pointing towards, silently mouthing the words.

‘A sweet summer breeze caressed an orchid of a thousand colours as if it were a lost lover returning, the fruit birthed from the trees clung to their green heads like jewelled crowns of rich red and gentle pink…’

A small smile flirted with her lips. Without saying anything, looking up or handing the book to Felicia she ambled towards her small garden. From memory she had not read this short story, and amongst the yield of books in her library and the fresh pages it boasted she was not sure if it even belonged to her. 

When she got there and lay down on her belly amongst the prickly blades of grass and observant gaze of the old oak tree, she continued to read the story beneath lantern light. After finishing it she flicked to the front to start from the beginning of the book, wondering how she had ever missed reading such a beautiful work in the first place. Some of the poems and stories she had indulged in before, but a few were unfamiliar to her. 

She did not touch the other books, not even when she was curled up in bed that night, falling into dreams of a sweet southern summer she could not remember. 


	10. Bishops Waltz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An evening game of chess yields an interesting prospect for Teresa.

# ~ A Minute Before Dawn~

# Blooming Moon Arc

### Chapter Ten: Bishops Waltz

“It’s time to make your move, milady.” Gunter gently reminded her, his old un-armoured hands clasping each other atop the mess hall table. Teresa glanced at the hourglass, the sand funnelled down toward the base like men falling down an abyss. After taking a slow sip of creamy milk she picked up a queen and moved it forward, she turned the hourglass over with her spare hand and looked to Gunter. The grains of sand began to tumble in the other direction.

Beside her soldiers and staff were supping and keenly watched, it was a form of peculiar supper entertainment for those immediately surrounding them. In fact, this ritual was strange amongst high society. Princesses did not often trade dinner spots with their servants and she hoped that the butler that had taken her seat on the dais enjoyed her more substantial supper.

Sometimes sitting alongside the staff, talking with them and eating with them, was a simple joy that she liked. That and she believed it fostered positive sentiments amongst her workforce and soldiers; it made her relatable to them and hoped that it made them feel appreciated. She had never heard of her father, siblings or other noble lords eating servants’ portions of food or sitting alongside them. 

After placing the cup of milk down she picked up the trencher. Today, because she was sitting towards the end of the mess hall, she only had a few assortments of buttery vegetables, some dry looking flakes of fish and a thick savoury porridge. One of the servants placed a heel of bread in her trencher where she scooped up a bit of each and began to eat.

Sitting towards the end of the hall meant that she was one of the last people to be fed, but it did not matter to her all too much. Even if the food was a bit cold. But she had, however, insisted that Gunter be one of the first people served and he had finished eating a while ago.

Gunter moved the next piece and turned the hourglass and she began to survey the field again. She swallowed and pushed the trencher away before wiping her hand on a piece of nearby cloth. The bustling conversation in the hall created a dull drone in the background whilst she concentrated. Her offensive with her black queen had been enough to force his white king a square to the side. Now she needed to act again, she was pondering her moves when she heard determined footfalls click against the stone tiles of the hall. They had not needed to go too far before they stopped to the side of her.

She raised a hand to momentarily pause gameplay; the other hand stroked the cream leather book that sat on her lap like a contented cat.

“Do not stop on my account.” Iago purred, it sounded like he had a smile in his voice and when she turned to look up at him he was grinning. A light shone brightly in his exposed eye as he surveyed the board, she knew that he had already devised a thousand ways to win.

“Talia, would you please move over a little bit for Lord Iago.” The maid that sat on her right side quickly agreed, allowing Iago enough room to slide in beside her, even if it was a little bit of a tight fit. Despite the icy northern blood he claimed she could feel heat radiate off of him in a pleasant way. 

He was dressed in more flamboyant clothing tonight, dominated by reds and blacks and occasionally accented in gold and silver, hair tied into a neat bun rather than the sloppy one she had seen days earlier. 

She could also smell him now, close enough to scent something that was herby and smoky, but also slightly salty. Perhaps he had been burning herbs for spells in his residence, or maybe it was permanently engrained into him.

A quiet tapping from her fingers could barely be heard in the air as she contemplated his arrival, he seemed to be slightly early today, as he had been last time.

“Have you eaten already?” She smiled, turning her gaze back to the board and allowing the sand men to tumble back down onto each other again. 

“Yes.” His deep voice coolly began. “Your father gave me the honour of supping me.” 

“Explains why you are dressed so nicely.” She smiled, moving her king over diagonally, she imagined placing her father down on the battlefield. Each piece she gave an identity to. Father was the black king, Xander the queen, Leo and Camilla were knights, she was a bishop and Elise was a rook. Giving each piece an identity made her feel like she had so much more to lose and that was the way she felt chess should always be played. 

On the other side of the board she gave the pieces faceless identities, the featureless Hoshidan royals, gleaming proudly in blemish free armour.

She placed the black piece that was her father down again and ended her turn.

“You look to be doing quite well, princess.” Iago thoughtfully mused. 

“That she is.” The old knight gently grumbled. Gunter had taught her almost everything she knew about strategy, and like her he seemed equally pleased by Iago’s small praise. He moved the rook’s castle over, one of the Hoshidan royals. 

Just after he had turned the timer around she grasped her tiny wooden father once more and placed him on a different segment.

“You’re certainly not giving me any room to breath tonight.” Gunter grunted with a discouraged smile; so far she had won every single match this evening. The end of this one would mark the fifth game completed. 

“I do not intend to.” She happily grinned, taking another sip of milk and turning the hourglass over. 

Iago’s silence was unnerving her slightly, and his neutral expression was plastered on the board. Teresa tried not to let the budding nerves get the better of her, but it was hard when Nohr’s Master Tactician was scrutinising every move that was made. 

Whilst she waited for Gunter her eyes lingered down her flowing side ponytail, it sloped over Iago’s covered shoulder, complimenting the black but clashing with the red. A clinking sound heralded the end of Gunter’s turn, all he had done was move the rook he had played last turn to its previous spot.

After contemplating for a moment she moved her king again, allowing father and the hundred troops she laid on the king piece to continue riding forth for an assault. 

Another glance at Iago exposed a smirk growing on his face, a satisfied one that she had never seen before, complementing his youthful features.

Gunter moved his bishop and frowned when she moved her king up again. The staff around them loomed over the table, politely eating and watching, sometimes whispering between themselves the move they would make or remarks about the way this game had been played. 

“You sure do love that king piece.” Gunter irritably sighed to himself, leaning his chin onto one of his palms, contemplating the next defensive step to play. He seemed well on his way to resigning, but it was not like Gunter to quit, not until he was entirely stuck. 

As if sticking a point to him she moved her king up another row and cheekily grinned, shrugging her shoulders and turning the hourglass over again. 

“She is putting quite a lot of pressure on you.” Iago observed with her most recent moved, keenly eying off the king piece she had urged forward.

“I wonder if you know my secret right now, Iago.” Teresa teased, he only nodded and airily sighed; his reaction seemed to unnerve her elder instructor slightly. 

Time dripped away slowly until he was forced to move, taking Elise with the malicious, faceless royal that the bishop represented. 

“You killed Elise.” Teresa remarked as the sand tumbled down once more. “Now father only has Leo and Xander left.” 

“I can see what move you will make next.” Gunter wearily huffed, scratching the back of his neck with defeat, but even with the loss he proudly smiled and his eyes shone.

She moved the king between two pawns and now forces that could not save him boxed the king of Hoshido in, sealing his demise. His rook siblings could not move through him, and his pawns could not progress backwards. Father was now free to kill the king and take his throne, a day he surely dreamed of often. 

“I concede defeat.” Gunter announced, knocking the white king over as if felling him with a sword, or in this case mighty battle-axe. “Good job, milady.”

“Very well played.” Iago complemented, matching Gunter’s pleased grin and happy eyes. “You have taught her well.”

“You honour me with your praises, milord.” Gunter modestly smiled. “But I didn’t teach her this tactic.”

“You taught yourself?” Iago asked with intrigue, she swallowed the last of her milk and placed the cup down, nodding. 

“I read about it in a strategy book in the library.” 

He nodded and his grin grew more excited, a small bite of his lip and a brief look to the board made him seem hesitant before he asked his question anyway.

“Do you have enough constitution for another match?” He asked whilst turning as best he could to face her, although that was a bit hard due to the packed bench. 

“Against you?” Teresa quickly queried, her mouth falling agape and heart picking up, a nervous jolt shuddered through her. She was likely nowhere near his meticulous standards and had never even coordinated a real battle. Iago far outweighed her.

“Yes.” He picked up a black bishop Gunter had taken, and if she took his playing with it literally she could take it as a sign that their game would merely be toying with her. “The reprieve a simple game of chess offers seems comforting – commanding peoples lives can become far too tiring and stressful.”

“I would not doubt it.” She sighed, moving the board between them and adjusting the pieces accordingly. Even though the odds were highly against her favour, the thrill of a challenging game and the brief hope of a triumphant victory spurred her to take up the trial.

“You will move first, princess.” He announced. A reluctant sigh compelled her fingers to pick up the black pieces and move them to his side, she almost always played as black. To her it seemed almost foreign playing with the white pieces. 

“Fine.” She agreed, as far as she was concerned she needed them to try and begin to set him up, white always moved first after all.

They prepared the board and the game was soon ready to start, a crowd of maids, butlers and double the number of soldiers had gathered around to make their wooden battle feel closed in. It was a rare opportunity to see the appointed Master Tactician engage in a casual game of chess, and many of the soldiers looked like they desperately wanted to learn from it.

She began by spurring her E-pawn forward, but before she could even turn the hourglass over Iago had moved to match her play. He wore an incredibly neutral expression, entirely unreadable and likely already planning ways to bait her. 

She moved her D-pawn forward and once again he matched her.

Room was open to move her knight, she liked to imagine moving Camilla first but only because her wyvern courageously carry her into the oncoming battle. Wincing, she placed the white horse down onto a C-square, remembering that this was not Camilla but a Hoshidan royal or commander. 

Iago’s bishop was swept onto a B-square, her wince turned into an amused smile, exposing her pointed teeth in a rare way that was not menacing and strangely soft.

“I wonder what my fate will be.” She mumbled, oddly she felt that the piece would be safe in Iago’s hands; yet again he might sacrifice it to break her ranks. 

“You view yourself as the bishop?” He questioned with emotionless eye contact. 

“I play each piece as a person I know, I feel more invested that way.” Teresa explained, moving her E-pawn up again so that it could kiss Iago’s. 

“Curious.” He pondered before he continued his play, gracefully moving a knight toward the front line. “And who is this?”

“Camilla.” Teresa answered, eyeing the horse that she wished to replace with a wyvern. “She is always the first knight that I move because she flies. I only thought it to be fitting.” Teresa moved A-pawn into the fray, forcing Iago to move his bishop to take her knight.

“There, your bishop took down the Hoshidan princess and her Pegasus army.” Iago teased before proclaiming check.

“I’m not sure if it is rude that you got me killed this early.” Teresa huffed as she used a pawn to slay her piece. “And with a pawn, what a terrible way to fall.”

“Happens to the best of them.” Iago bluntly proclaimed. “Looks like I will have to avenge you eventually.” 

“What piece are you?” She curiously inquired. It made sense that he would put real world value on the pieces too. If anything it would be the natural thing for him to do since he was literally forced to place prices and lives onto pieces on the giant board in the war room. 

“Bishop.”

“We are a matching pair.” Teresa remarked, watching him move a pawn onward towards the front line. Then with dramatic flair she gargled, “Avenge … me! Eugh!”

Iago laughed and shook his head leisurely in enjoyment, a light sounding snicker that drew out natural warmth in her. It made her content to see him laugh, and for once she was glad that training – because this was unofficial training – had not made the air tense. 

He lazily observed the field for a while before he spoke again. “You have opened with Morgan’s variation on Nohrian Defence.”

“So I have.” She swept her had to the board. 

“Nice strong centre, good set up for your bishops…” Iago began explaining, she listened intently as everyone else did and was not sure if he was explaining to supplement her knowledge or teach the soldiers that huddled around. “...But you have allowed a me a chance for greater, speedier development later on.” 

She continued by moving her gleaming A-pawn forward again. She hoped to prevent him from setting up a blockade on the A4-square whilst giving herself a chance to set up her bishop. Iago moved his knight.

“Leo.” She stated before moving her remaining knight to an F-square.

He moved the bishop again. 

“I hope that you will treat yourself better than you treated me.” Teresa teased whilst sliding one of her bishops to a D-square. 

“And who’s this?” Iago asked as he moved the queen out of its square and towards the battle, as if it were curiously surveying the front line from a distance.

“Xander, because he can move so dynamically.” Teresa explained, matching him by moving her queen towards her rook, then placing the castle to the other side of it, a technique known as ‘Castling’. “Castle kingside.” 

Silently, Iago progressed, commanding his black pawn directly into the range of her bishop. It was a risky move; he had also voluntarily opened up a dangerous diagonal that left many pieces exposed to her C-bishop. It looked like his move was trying to drive back her other bishop and diminish her centre, all before she had a chance to attack with the C one. She moved back her active bishop to before it could be taken and Iago was quick to move his F-pawn forward. In response she moved the kingside rook into a more versatile position. He moved Camilla’s knight to again and Teresa did the same with her C-bishop. 

Her E5-pawn was now open to a strong sacrificial move, Iago took that pawn with one of his own, and by doing so it opened up her central line, driving her to take that malicious pawn with her own with a vengeance. But the little pawns celebration was short lived as Leo and his army galloped in to take its life. 

“I’m sorry, Leo.” She apologetically whined as her own knight squashed his forces like it was a candle to be snuffed out.

“Front line is brutal tonight, huh?” Iago grinned, perhaps finding relief in the fact that the troops dying there were figurative and not real. 

“Yes.” Teresa pouted; pondering her next play and then realising that Camilla could now swoop in to kill those that had murdered her little brother in cold blood. 

She moved her queen toward the centre of the field to achieve centralisation, trying to keep influence in all directions and drive back Camilla’s knight. She succeeded and smiled slightly when Iago withdrew it. Teresa then drew her white bishop more into play and Iago brought Garon’s king piece forward, another risky move. 

She inched her F-pawn onward. Iago grinned at this and called her play out loud.

“You plan to drive through my wall to open up play for your bishops.” Then he moved his H-rook from its position closer to the centre, behind his line of soldiers. “Tell me who I just moved.”

“Elise.” Teresa purred, bringing her F-pawn up again, giving Iago the opportunity to capture that space with one of his pawns but voluntarily opening up D5 for her queen.

“Check.” She announced before Iago moved his king out of range by bringing him forward a space. She moved one of her bishops back to fake withdrawal, if she played it right this left her a few opportunities for a crushing attack, however doubt tightened her throat. Iago would never fall for such a ploy, would he?

He hissed thoughtfully into his closed hands, grasping each other in front of his mouth as if he were praying. A small furrow of his brow made him appear deep in thought. He played Camilla’s knight but remained neutral in expression.

“That’s a beautiful play.” She grumbled, massaging her temples and pondering what to do next. Now his defence was based around an exceptional counter attack, forcing her queen back out of play, Iago responded by moving his king closer to the field.

Teresa seized her chance to take Camilla’s knight by driving her rook up to E5, sacrificial because Elise would soon come and take it. 

“Wonderful.” Iago neutrally announced. “It looks like you are trying to create a tactical defence.”

“Maybe.” She monotonously teased whilst he moved his queen, or Xander’s forces, to take her rook. Teresa’s queen charged upward to crush his remaining bishop piece.

“And now I’m dead.” He announced with the hint of a smile. 

“You’re not going to act it out like I did?” Teresa playfully goaded, raising an eyebrow. The suggestion made Iago grin and sigh, his eyes still tactical and thoughtful. 

“Eeeck!” He monotonously announced despite the overzealous drama on his face. “I’m dead.” 

She threw back her head and laughed at that, as did many others. For her staff this had to be one of the most entertaining evenings they had revelled in yet. 

In response to his death he moved his A-rook to the D-square, right in front of her queen.

“And who is this?” He purred, tilting his head to the side, the strand of hair that swept across his face fell over his nose onto the downward cheek, covering the sun hiding his eye.

“Gunter.” Teresa announced and some of the soldiers cheered and whooped in response. Gunter raised his hands to calm to excited outburst before he addressed them all. 

“I’m not going to act out my demise if it happens.” A few people pretended to jeer hatefully before light-heartedly giggling and falling back into the next play. 

Instead of taking the rook that represented Gunter, she charged to the side and compelled her queen to capture a B-square instead, Iago wasted no time moving his queen towards her king in an offensive move. 

“Check.” He announced. 

Teresa moved her king away and Iago took his Gunter rook down toward it, people cheered as if Gunter were actually leading a charge then and there. This opened up her queen to take a more favourable position.

“Check.”

Iago directed Elise’s rook to block her access to his king. She played her bishop, thinking that Iago’s queen might take the bait.

The Master Tactician disapprovingly hissed again, but his engrossed posture told her that he was somewhat surprised. “You’re forcing me to a difficult end game.” 

“I decided to rise to the challenge of competing against you, didn’t I?” Teresa was trying her best to hold her position whilst eliminating mate threats. It also appeared to have forced Iago to simplify his end game. Her throat had become dry so she swallowed as best she could, trying to keep her excited heart rate down. Was there a possibility that she could beat him at his own game? Was he going easy on her on purpose?

Iago moved his D-rook into an offensive position on her king. “Check.”

Teresa moved her king away from tiny, wooden Gunter.

His rook took a different position and opened up his queen to attack her king. “Check.”

Other people saw that the rook’s demise was inevitable and cheered for Gunter to make a dying remark and eventually he gave in, accepting some fruit from the platters the maids began shoving around for dessert. “I died for your dessert!”

People hooted before the whispering grew again and became more excited; bets were even being called both for and against her.

She took the rook that was Gunter; black queen was moved to assault her king yet again. “Check.”

Teresa sighed and spirited her king away to H1, eyes totally focused on what was unfolding before her. Iago was equally as concentrated as he moved Elise’s rook, to take her queen. 

She enthused her bishop up to tackle his castle, Elise was now dead and only Xander and father remained. 

Iago redeployed his queen over to capture her space on C3, killing her pawn in the process. 

Teresa encouraged her rook to G1. “Check.” 

He relocated his king and she moved her bishop to take A7.

Iago sat for a while and apparently a spectator had been keeping time, because he ran out and the move defaulted to her. She placed her pawn up a space, beginning her run to take her queen back. 

Iago’s pawn wondered to C3 and she beckoned her bishop to B7, to support her potential queen. Apparently he was attempting to get his pawn to the end as well, because he moved it forward another space. 

Seeing her opportunity, she deployed her left most A-bishop to a more defensive position, making a clear path for her pawn to strike home. He then moved his queen towards her, trying to stop her play. Her pawn strolled up again and then Iago took her defending bishop, but it was already too late.

She placed her pawn on A8 where it blossomed to a queen. His only response was to dispose of her rook, also sacrificing his queen momentarily in the play. Once ready, he moved his pawn down where it became a queen like hers was. 

And then a deafening silence as everybody gazed at the board, finally seeing what had unexpectedly occurred. 

A draw. 

No matter what happened now she would have to move her king and Iago would be forced to follow with his queen to keep her in check. There were no other moves left to play. She brushed her open palm against her sweaty forehead and drew it down her face, stopping it once it covered her mouth in disbelief. Teresa forced herself to bring her widened eyes to Iago, but his reaction was not what she had expected. 

Failure strongly nagged at his sense of purpose, and this was a failure on his part. But he was smiling about it.

Soon he was laughing, it was a strange mixture that drew the gaze of everyone in the room. It sounded nervous, relieved and entirely exhilarated and slowly, she joined in. Lacking any other proper reaction.

“It’s been a long time since I have had a match that good.” He exhaled after his laughing fit, running his hand over his hair as if expecting to brush away any loose strands. 

“Really?” 

“By God, you really played me into a corner.” He grinned, oddly contented.

“Thank you.” She smiled, looking to Gunter who seemed overjoyed by her triumph. “I tried my hardest to challenge you.”

“You did.” He looked down to the board again, and shook his head in amused disbelief. Swiftly, he turned to Gunter.

“You really taught her to play like this?” He huffed with an undying curiosity. 

“I’ve had her play regularly since a young age but I think that she taught herself most of this. I can’t remember when she became this good, milord.” Gunter explained, stuttering throughout as if lost for words.

“Hold on!” Teresa level-headedly interrupted, raising her hands. “This is only one draw! It was probably just luck.” 

As much as she hoped this made her special and useful, reality seemed more likely to favour her luck, and luck was something that was lucrative for her.

“Do you want to play again?” Iago asked, the crowd began to murmur, growing bigger till people were standing on tables to try and get a view. She felt a lot of nervous pressure weigh her down, however the kick of exhilaration that flirted with her pleasure spurred her on to accept.

“Bring out some wine.” Teresa called to the servants that were attending supper’s needs, all of them lost amongst the curtain of curious spectators, as enthralled in their games as if they were watching a real life battle. 

They played another four matches, Iago won three of them and she somehow managed to win one, which in itself was an achievement. But the pressure had been on her, and from his concentration and sweaty brow, him as well. When they finished their last game, Iago completely decimating her black king, he sat back and smiled.

“You’re good.” He placed a finger to his lips; they looked flushed from the intensity of the match.

“You flatter me too much.” She smiled; looking down and away to the board, in no way did she feel deserving of that compliment. 

“You drew one match with me and won one. And your techniques are far better than theirs, even Leo’s.” He remarked, sipping some tea because he had declined alcohol. Teresa had not been so reserved; she had needed some wine after all of that to relax her. She would have preferred ale, but her storehouse had been hastily given to Ganz and now only one barrel remained. It was intended for mid summer celebrations. 

“Really?” She coolly asked, although secretly she was fighting any excited trembling that wanted to surge forth, she understood how highly any praise from Iago was considered. Real praise from him, especially tactical, was almost as rare as praise from father. 

“Absolutely.” He smiled, looking at the board again, then straightening his posture; within his burning russet eye she could see the start of a plan forming. “If you’d like, next time I can bring the better boards.” 

“The proper tactical ones?” She gasped, Teresa had rarely played on them and they were much more complicated than chess. They involved supply lines and geography as well as movement limitations and staff-play to boost assets and cripple enemies. 

“Yes.” He nodded. She could see him trying to maintain his professional demeanour, but for the first time ever he seemed visibly excited, she could even see the artery in his neck beating quickly. 

“I-” She began, mind too foggy to properly think. “But your time? It’s already so limited!”

“Nohr needs more able strategists. It would be foolish to pass up such potential.” He remarked, resting his chin on his palm and regarding her. 

“Potential?” She nervously scoffed. “How can you tell that I have potential from a few games of chess?”

“You look to have a knack for it. And if you really are a strategic mind we’ll find out from proper boards.” He smiled, the prospect was tempting for her, but she still carefully regarded it. 

“Your time?” She reminded him. 

“I’ll extend the hours here or come more regularly. I’m sure that there will be some wiggle room for this, even if we only play for an hour in the mornings. Games on the proper boards can go for days at a time and can be left and returned to. We can easily maintain it.” He stood up to stretch and she followed, fumbling for the book she had forgotten slumbered in her lap. Now was not the time to bring it up.

“And father?” 

“I’ll run it by him first thing I return tomorrow. But I’m sure that he will agree. Good strategy can make or break strong leaders, and he needs a strong leader from you.” Iago explained, inviting her to walk with him. Only when they exited the mess hall did the cool night air make her feel more comfortable, she had not realised how hot it was inside. 

“Ok, well this all sounds great.” Teresa sighed, but her sudden wide smile betrayed her excitement. “I hope that I won’t let you down.”

“I won’t let that happen.” He smiled and took a deep breath. “I won’t let you waste your potential.”

“Good.”

“And I won’t let you waste it with tomes, either.” This smile was soft and genuine, and slowly she felt trust leeching into her where before she chaffed with his authority. To see that he had high hopes for her and would not let her waste it made her want to push harder in both areas. It overcame her with the urge to train right then and there.

“Can we take up tomes right now?” She asked. “Sorry if it’s a bit late, I just want to harness my energy in the right way whilst I still have it.”

“Let’s go train.” He purred, leading her to his quarters to get his tomes, then to their training ground. And although the training was fruitless Teresa went to bed with a new desire to achieve, a feeling that she had lacked before.

Oddly she had taken the book she had meant to give him into the sheets with her; maybe they would talk about it the next morning. For now she wanted to focus on the sweet feeling birthed from determination, something she had not felt since she had come to terms with Gunter’s authority. 

And like it had been before, it was a quick feeling that seized her and would not see her fail her tutor.

# *

“It’s time to wake up, my lady.” A soft voice stated; her closed eyes were disturbed by a bright candlelight that irritated her. Teresa tiredly groaned and tried to brush the light away without opening her eyes, when she was unsuccessful she rolled over and tried to go back to sleep.

“My lady…” A chirpier voice summoned, rousing her from her sleep when she placed an icy hand against her cheek.

“I’m up. I’m up.” Teresa groggily mumbled, abruptly scrambling to sit up. Felicia and Flora were on opposite sides of her bed; it looked to be Flora that had tried to wake her first.

“How did you sleep?” The blue haired girl inquired, placing the candle and its delicate holder down on one of her bedside tables. 

“Well.” Teresa swallowed and stood up from the comfortable confines of her bed, unsuccessfully trying to stifle another yawn. “I can’t remember if I had any dreams though.”

Flora cleared her throat and earned Teresa’s attention once more, she was holding the cream book in her hands and one of her eyebrows was raised with curiosity. “You slept with the book?”

“Ah, yes.” Teresa smiled, leaning over the bed on a hand and knee to gently take it from Flora’s grasp. “I did some light reading before sleep last night.”

“I believe that you’ve had it in your possession obsessively the past few days.” Felicia remarked, pushing Teresa down onto crossed legs atop the sheets so that she could begin work brushing her hair. The teal haired woman was facing Flora, firmly clutching the book to her chest.

“I have. The stories in it are magnificent and most of them are new to me. I can’t believe that I missed out on something so spectacular for so long.” Teresa wispily sighed, this book was quickly becoming one of her favourites and it were hers she would house it in the bookshelf by her seat in the library. That was where her favourite books were kept; this one would probably be placed next to ‘Nohrian Tales’. 

As if by reading her mind Felicia commented on her needy possession of the book again. “I don’t doubt it, taking a book into the mess hall isn’t something I’ve seen you do before.”

“Oh, yeah.” She huffed, looking down to the blemish free cream leather and stroking it with her thumb. “The only reason I took it with me was because I wanted to see if Iago owned this. I don’t remember seeing this book in my library before so I thought it might belong to him. I was going to give it back to him immediately when he arrived but the chess games distracted me.”

“You’ll have to wait until the next time you see him then.” Flora began, earning her immediate attention. 

“Eh?”

“He’s preparing to return to Castle Krakenburg right now, I saw him heading for the stables.” Flora explained and if she said anything else Teresa had missed it. In a hurry she stood up and bounded over the plush bed, bolting towards the door. She landed on the stony floors with a huge thump and hurried out of the open door. 

If she ran she might be able to catch him in time. She could hear Felicia racing down behind her, and Teresa’s quick reaction time had allowed her to evade Jakob who was progressing upward with a tray of china cups and steaming tea.

“Sorry Jakob!” She exclaimed as she slithered past, he made an astonished sound as if he had not heard her and adjusted his stance; miraculously he did not spill or break anything. Even more of a miracle was Felicia moving past him, somehow her clumsiness did not see her running into Jakob or breaking everything he held. 

She burst out the door and took an almost immediate left, running along the butler’s housing quarters and magic training yard, eventually she found the right turn to the guest wings and continued her sprint.

As her breath passed in and out of her lungs it burned and her mind began to go numb, the only thought that she could muster was to keep running for the stables. On the way there she passed the room Iago usually slept in and briefly stopped to check if he was there. She only found her confused staff stripping the bed and cleaning the already meticulously tidy room. 

Before Felicia could stop by her side Teresa was off again, dashing for the stable foyer, when she got to the marbled room she ran down a few steps and then jumped down the rest, stumbling at the bottom before bursting into the stables. His staffs were urging the horses they borrowed from him out at a leisurely walk, meaning that he could not be too far ahead. 

With the brief stop in momentum she continued ahead, running by Lilith and her confused face as she brushed Velvet’s mane and subsequently by Iago’s equally perplexed staff. It was probably the first time they had seen a barefoot, bedraggled princess in a white nightdress run by, all whilst hefting a cream book like she had stolen her father’s crown. As for her staff she could not claim the same naivety. 

“Iago!” She called, racing up to the bay horse at the start of the tiny party, wincing as her bare feet met sharp chips of stray rock. A concerned look seized him as he quickly unmounted to meet her, looking over her appearance and newly dirtied feet. He placed a hand on her shoulder and looked at her, his back was straightened and his posture firm as if he had started dealing with a catastrophe. He looked professional and controlled. 

“What’s wrong?” He briskly asked; she could hear some concern in his tone as the other hand jostled to free his riding cape. Teresa panted a few times to get some air into her scorching lungs, tingling prickled her skin from the heat of the running and a fresh crop of sweat could be felt beneath her hair. “What’s made you run all the way out here at this hour? Did somebody try to harm you?” 

“N-no!” She panted, feeling the cloak slide around her, but it felt irritating against her heated skin. Slowly, she raised the book to his hands, they clung against the place he held the cape atop her collarbones. Behind her she could hear Felicia come to a stop, panting even louder than she was.

“Umm…” His brow furrowed in confusion as he released the cape and held the book; her hands seized the slate cloak around her to stop it from falling off. 

“Is this your book?” She asked whilst her breath steadied, it was beginning to get a bit nippy and in her thin nightdress she could feel the air assault her. The warm cloak now felt like a welcome gift and she gripped it as tight as she could around her frame.

“Yes.” He stated with great confusion; drawing out the word and tilting his head in a distinctly perplexed look, his loose hair lifted a bit in a sudden breeze. When the air beat her she shuddered and felt some of her own hair angrily whip against her face. A brief glance above revealed a thick layer of clouds, hiding the twinkling stars from her gaze. 

“There.” She nodded to the book. “I’ve returned it to you. I wanted to because I thought that it’d be rude to continue keeping it.”

When a brief silent moment slipped by he laughed and shook his head in an incredibly amused fashion. “You ran all this way to return a book to me?”

“Yes.” She chirped with a brisk nod, she could see the humour in the situation. With adept hands he handed the book back to her. As she let go of the cape to grasp the leathery item he carried out a skilful exchange. Now he stood holding his cloak around her shoulders whilst the wind continued to violently oppose their stagnant presence. To her it seemed as if the elemental body wanted them both to hide within the citadel walls before a rare summer storm could become angry with them. 

“You keep it.” He mused with a smile. “It can be a gift for beating me at my own game.”

“That was only one victory.” She huffed, becoming a little uncomfortable with the sudden gift. Quickly she averted her eyes to the ground and tried to hide the embarrassed blush reddening her cheeks. “Besides, I own plenty of books in my library.”

“It’s fine. I already have a similar text anyway. This one is a newly printed copy with a little bit more in it, and I’m sure that you’ll find more joy in it than I would.” He confidently remarked. However, Teresa still felt a little uncomfortable taking it, accepting gifts from her siblings was one thing, accepting a gift from a noble lord was entirely different. And if people thought about this the wrong way he might even get in trouble. 

“You’re sure?” She addressed the issue for the final time and gazed upwards, certain that the blush was now gone. 

“Absolutely.” Iago nodded back to her. “But there is something that I need back.”

“Hmm?” She vocalised through pursed lips, feeling the warm cloak slip away from her. 

“I’ll be needing this to ride. I don’t want to get my hair wet.” He casually stated with a teasing tone that made her pursed lips twitch with a smile. 

“Of course.” She bowed her head, skin leeching and turning bumpy with another strong breeze, the hem of her dress angrily lashed out at her thighs and her hair scratched at her face and bare shoulders.

“Do you have any requests for me, my lady?” He asked, mounting his horse in a swift and precise motion. 

“Oh!” She suddenly remembered their talk about strategy tutoring the previous evening. “Please write to me informing me if father says yes to your proposition. I don’t think my patience is enough to wait three days.” 

He nodded and his horse moved effortlessly beneath his weight, patiently anticipating carrying her master back home. “Get inside, princess. Or you might catch a cold.”

She did as he bid and turned away, walking into a warm woollen blanket Felicia had snatched from her bed. The pink haired maid quickly wrapped her in it and manoeuvred her inside the stables. 

Teresa stopped and looked down at the book. Another selfless thing her tutor had done for her. 

“What was that all about?” Lilith asked from the middle of the horse-smelling stable, many of them were braying nervously. 

“That book.” Felicia huffed, continuing to catch the last of her breath. 

“Must be a good book.” Lilith ardently stated, finishing her work with Velvet and moving onto tending Mercer. 

As she was about to speak she stopped, turning to look outside of the stables. Gradually, the dusty courtyard outside became darker with the presence of summer rain. The drops pattered down in a way that relaxed her and unconsciously she clutched the book closer to her within the blanket, as if to completely warm and protect it from the new showers. 

“Yes, it is.” She passionately confirmed, taking a seat on the stairs connecting the stable and foyer to convey the stories of the beautiful book to Lilith. The small, yellow-eyed girl contently brushed the horses as Teresa told her of a poem about two sisters and their adventures on a pristine beach. 

Somehow Lilith ended up huddling beside Teresa within the woollen blanket, looking at various poems whilst Felicia left them to get some tea. The rain continued to pleasantly drum against the ground outside, and the musky smell of ozone clung thick to the air. To Teresa it seemed like Lilith was more contented than usual, as if the tiny stablehand aspired to live in a simple house by the sea like the poems young sisters did. 

They were disturbed later on by Jakob who came to deliver a letter. All it said was ‘yes’. 


	11. Letters from Sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Letters and gifts from Camilla arrive to her siblings, Xander and Teresa confront each other about their crippled bond and a strange dream visits the princess as she slumbers.

# ~ A Minute Before Dawn~

# Blooming Moon Arc

### Chapter Eleven: Letters from Sister

Shing! 

It was a hollow sound, almost lost amongst the drills being meticulously practiced in the vast front courtyard. The un-mounted cavalier girl scrambled in the dirt for the training sword just beyond her grasp. The teal woman quickly walked past the felled Cavalier and kicked the sword away towards the ring of their surveyors. 

After ridding the girl of her only chance for survival Teresa held the blade of her training sword to the edge of the girl’s gorget, just at the break before the back of her neck. A light press down made the girl whimper, maybe she feared that Teresa would slip and hurt her.

“I yield!” The girl panted, raising her hands and placing them by her side. With a neutral expression Teresa removed the blade and knelt down to help the girl up. She was a new arrival; perhaps it had been cruel for her Paladin mentor to send her against Teresa in what was probably one of her first proper spars. 

When she saw the soft young girl’s spoiled face and defeated pout she sympathetically smiled. Everyone had been down in the dirt at some point, and unlike most she remembered what it felt like to be clumsy with a sword. She extended her hand and began to help the girl up.

“You did well.” Teresa humbly whispered, letting the cavalier lean on her for support. It looked like she had knocked her down a little bit too hard after disarming her, but she would have to get used to being hit like that. It would be even worse when she was knocked off her horse by a real sword or lance. 

“Sorry if I struck you down too hard. It’s better that you get used to it early on. Nobody would fell me hard enough when I was still green and once I got to a higher level I wasn’t used to the feeling. Got me sent onto my ass quite a few times, I’ll tell you that much.” 

Their surrounding crowd laughed at the statement, and the young cavalier girl, perhaps as old as twelve, nervously joined in. Her blue eyes glanced down at the place Teresa was supporting and then anxiously jolted away. Without drawing attention to her discomfort, Teresa let go of her arm and took a step back.

In time she would hopefully get used to the camaraderie that Teresa promoted amongst her citadel’s residents. Amongst the nobles and royals she knew, none of them really socialised with their soldiers much. Xander was an exception, and as well loved as he was he was still somewhat rigid. 

However, sharing a slap on the back or sitting down to eat with the rest of her soldiers was fine by her. All her warmth and affection for her fighters was worth it, because they all treated her as their friend. She could tell that it was genuine by the look in their eyes and their laughing, hearted smiles. Even by the way they drank and sung songs with her at supper. 

The Paladin Captain, Porcia, proudly strode up to the cavalier and began to show her how to better handle a sword. The tall, slightly bulky blonde woman also gave a demonstration to the rest of the group whilst Teresa stared into space. 

She had been itching to train with tomes today; in fact, Felicia was still standing in the crowd with them, waiting patiently. When Teresa had casually sauntered into the yard to practice she had been met with requests to help with the cavaliers. A model of what some of the highest swordsmanship looked like. 

On the other side of the bustling yard she could hear the fighters training, Cassandra, the resident Berserker Captain, was polishing her brood’s ability to throw hand axes today. A brief glance through the crowd showed that she was helping a beautiful girl with her throwing angle, adjusting her stance and grip whilst her tumbling blonde hair ambled down her back. Teresa pursed her lips and searched her mind for the girls name, when she found nothing she turned her gaze away to the archers on the wall. That girl must also be new. 

Amongst the petite and darkly dressed force she could see two guards pointing at something the grand, imposing fortification blocked from sight. She peered at them, almost as if she would somehow see what they were interested in, but no vivid mental images came to mind. 

Through pursed lips she turned to Felicia, beckoning her over with a finger. The pink haired maid hurried to her side, almost clumsily stumbling on a minuscule piece of rock before arriving by her side.

“Get the stablehands ready. It looks like we might be getting visitors soon.” She guessed. The only real action the sentries got was minding who crossed the bridge and stopping those that were not worthy.

“Yes, my lady.” Felicia agreed, hesitating before she left. “The tomes?”

“Return them to the mages armoury.” Teresa ordered, leaning over to place the training blade down, then returning to a casual stand. “Go on now.”

Felicia scurried away through the flesh wall of troops, disappearing in the blink of an eye. Without hesitation Teresa turned to Porcia and waved her hand to get her attention. “I’ll be up on the battlements for a bit, call me over if you need me to take on the rest of them for you.” Teresa cheekily grinned whilst Porcia nodded a dismissal. 

But one of the seasoned cavaliers jokingly called out to her. “You should beat up Captain Porcia instead! It’d save us a lot of trouble.”

It earned a soft eruption of laughter from them all, Teresa joined in as she replied. “Yeah, maybe. I think that she needs a good brawl, you lot aren’t giving one to her.”

She left them cackling as she cut through the crowd, all of them accept Porcia who stood amongst them with a slight mask of disapproval. 

Teresa found the outer stairs on the side of the wall and ascended them two at a time, all the way to the top. Her legs complaining as she crossed the battlements to where the two sentries still keenly surveyed. 

“Are we getting guests?” She grinned, turning to stand next to them. They both greeted her formally and began pointing to what they saw, but she had already found it, making her smile grow wider and her heart thunder with excitement. 

A small party was coming their way and they already appeared pretty lively. Xander, Leo and Elise were all dressed casually and leading at the front, their retainers lagging behind. Lazward and Odin were conversing and the silver headed man held as many flowers as he could carry. Like usual Effie was eating and did nothing to stop Elise from irritating Leo, who was buried head deep in a book. 

Niles seemed to be telling something to Pieri that made her argue with him in an animated way; Arthur appeared to try and support her, but was silenced by something else that Niles said. It looked in good humour because the three of them then laughed and whatever tension had been there dissipated like smoke from a dying candle flame.

Xander was the only one not doing anything. Siegfried was slumbering at his side and her brother’s eyes looked dead ahead, deep in throws of his own mind. 

Some wind swept through her side-ponytail and ruffled the thieves’ coats beside her.

She took a seat on the edge of the wall as they progressed along the bridge, letting one leg lazily slink down whilst the other was bent at the knee. Some of them hailed her, Elise did in a rather excited way; standing up as best she could in her horse’s saddle and waving both arms. In response Teresa waved coolly and sniggered when her younger brother gave her the usual, now half-hearted lecture. 

“One day you’re going to fall from there.” Leo smirked, looking up to listen for her usual response. 

“Like how you used to fall from your horse, brother?” She jokingly scoffed, even dramatically raising her hand to her chest. “Ha! Not likely!”

He shook his head with exaggerated amusement and sauntered in, the last of them to enter beneath her portcullis and the little indent in the stone above it that was her throne. 

Teresa stood and stretched before ambling down to the party, many of her soldiers were now distracted by their arrival. If she had been amongst them she would have heard whispering about her brothers. Above the clamour Teresa could hear that captains vying for their troops attention, and one by one their soldiers listened to their commands. 

“My, my Lazward. That’s quite the bouquet of flowers you have there.” Teresa mused as she arrived, without breaking eye contact with Lazward she scooped Elise up into her arms. A task that was becoming progressively harder to do with her emerging growth spurts. The silvery foreign man blushed and handed her a flower that she accepted. 

“For you, my lady.” He said as Elise placed the delicate, white blossom in her big sister’s hair, the same way a pink bud sat in hers. 

“It’s nice.” She grinned before raising an eyebrow. “But most of these other girls will get jealous that they’re not going to get one, right?”

Before he could answer Niles bluntly cut in with a suave tone. “They don’t want your flowers Lazward, not when they could try and cosy up to a prince or two.”

Her attention was drawn away to Xander and Leo, both of which were unaffected by the comment that now had Lazward and Niles conversing.

“And where are your flowers?”

They did not answer. Leo pouted and looked to the side with disdain and Xander softly smiled. If anything had been worrying him before he had passed through the portcullis he looked to have left it out there. But even with the smile she could feel a slight tense weight between them, Elise’s quickly overshadowed it as she turned in her grasp.

“I tried to get them to bring something but they wouldn’t listen.” Elise frowned.

Leo dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “Almost the entire residency of this Citadel is female, you can’t expect us to bring so many.”

“You could at least give some to the girls at court.” Elise sharply retorted.

“Oh.” Teresa negatively jeered. “Looks like you haven’t been listening to her. Don’t you want a nice, suitable bride, Leo?”

“I don’t need her help to do it.” He grumbled with embarrassment. Suddenly, Elise reached out to swat at his face, but Leo missed it as he took a step to the side. Lately he seemed to be getting more accustomed to avoiding her disciplinary swats.

“We have letters from Camilla.” Xander impatiently interrupted. 

“Oh, good!” Teresa exclaimed, giving an apologetic look to Elise as she put her down. It was too hard to keep holding her. 

“She probably wrote them like last time.” Leo huffed as he retrieved the thick parcels from his saddlebag. “Meaning that if each of us want a full story we’ll have to read them together.”

The stablehands had rushed over and were now tending to the horses. Once one had taken Ausdauer’s reigns Xander commanded their group to the library. Her brother set a brisk pace and they managed to get to the library in record time, when they got there Xander dismissed their retainers to the divided gardens nearby, determined to keep the contents of the letters to themselves. 

Teresa strolled over to her seat by the fire and slunk down into the comforting hug of the chair, watching the rest of her siblings walk towards the library’s homely heart. Leo began to walk over to the armchair next to her but hesitated, instead taking a seat next to Xander on the couch. 

Elise stopped as well, looking toward the armchair reluctantly. 

“What?” Teresa playfully contemplated “Are we waiting on Camilla? If we are then we might be here for a while.”

Her siblings remained silent; Xander even gave her a vaguely distasteful glance.

The armchair Elise looked to was typically where Camilla sat when she visited her humble abode. She still appeared a little reluctant, as if sitting in the chair might banish any memory of their big sister from their minds. With a sigh Teresa stood and hefted Elise over to her chair, then she sat down in the lavish comfort of ‘Camilla’s seat’. 

“All right.” Teresa dismissed, leaning over the bare table towards Leo and extending a hand. “My parcel, Leo.”

In a nonchalant manner he handed the creamy package to her, a glance down onto the parchment allowed Teresa to behold her name dancing across in blank ink. Camilla wrote with a distinct swirling script, something powerful and beautiful. 

The familiar weight of the packet and humbling thump it gave when she tapped her fingers against it told her that a book of some kind was inside. Slowly, she opened the mysterious package, inhaling a very faint perfume of peach. It was an unusual scent for a book and the brief perplexed surprise caused her brow to furrow. 

From the cream outer parcel a rectangular object wrapped in orange silk emerged, falling onto her lap with an odd elegance. Her curiosity urged her to carefully unwrap the book from the protective silk, exposing a peach coloured cover to the amber light of the fire. The sweet perfume grew stronger.

It possessed a vibrant cover of fresh leather; it appeared to glow like a peach dawn with the radiating light of the fire behind her. The strange silver lock and buckle begged her to investigate them further. The lock itself was an ornate, shimmering orb with a dark canal in the bottom. A wide circle that seemed to travel upwards into the hidden heart of the globe, it did not look like any lock she had seen before. Teresa pondered the item and wondered how she might open it, her thoughts seemingly summoned Camilla’s letter from the books clutches. Camilla would not send her a book to open without a key; the answer would be buried in her delicate writing. 

Carefully, Teresa wrapped the book up in its silken blanket and placed it on the table. She took a moment to stare at it, almost as if its simplistic beauty compelled her to do so. It was difficult to peel her gaze away from the object, however she eventually managed to give all of her attention to Camilla’s letter, revelling in that instead.

Camilla wrote that she had been doing well, as had Marzia, Selena and Beruka. She told stories of the people, most likely addressed to Elise, wrote of Selena’s exploits for her brothers to tell to tell their retainers and of the strange occurrences in her day. The usual things she addressed.

It was a story halfway through that caught her attention. The tale of how she had stumbled upon the book that contently sat on her table. Camilla explained how she had been in the library looking for something to read when she had heard a loud sound. She had been by herself and searched high and low for the noise before it happened right behind her, scaring her. After she had calmed down she had found the book and opened it, remarking about the bloody surprise the lock apparently held. Then explaining something very, very strange that set her a little on edge.

“I was surprised to find nothing in it, sweetling. Perhaps it was one of the Rever ghost haunting this spectacular library that wanted me to have it. They tend to let books fall from the shelves, have done for centuries according to Hans. Anyway, the pages are beautifully pressed with yarrow flower, love seed and eryngo and I thought that you deserved such a fine journal more than I. I send it to you thinking that you could write poetry in it, I know that your current book is filling up quickly and I’m sure that you’ll be done in no time.” Teresa briefly eyed the lock of the book again, apparently it was a ‘blood lock’ and she was supposed to prick her finger at the end of the canal to open it. She had never heard of blood locks before, Camilla had explained in the letter that they were very common amongst Rever books, tomes and journals. 

So far her letter had also raised questions about why a blank journal had been left in her husband’s library. It did not seem like a typical place to keep a virgin diary. 

“I sent it to you because his sister, Bella, said that it would be a waste to have a beautiful journal locked up in the library like that. She also said that the ghosts tend to give gifts to people, I guess this was my gift. And to you I gift it because you know how terrible I am at keeping journals. Maybe it wanted to be found and used. I wouldn’t want to be locked up and forgotten about either.” 

Teresa kept the story in mind as the rest of the letter became vaguely gloomy. She began to talk about how worried she was, it had been months and she still had not fallen pregnant with Hans’s child. She wrote that he was patient and loving but was worried that if she did not grant that wish soon he would grow restless.

She ended the letter on a happy note, asking her not to worry and declaring that she would write to them all again very soon. Her big sister requested that Teresa write to her of her tome and strategy training. Finally she finished the entire account by telling her to inform Elise that all the drawings in her small book were done by her. 

With a sigh Teresa finished, looking to Elise who eagerly gazed into her gift’s drawings, each one of them hand drawn by Camilla. The artistry was impressive and soon enough Teresa found herself pleasantly leering at the drawings too, feeling the winds and shade of the caldera like she was actually there.

When Xander was done reading they all began to exchange answers to their questions. Elise was able to tell Teresa about her inquiry on daggers and Camilla even offered to send one to her next time. Leo also told her of Camilla’s comment on the night sky and told her to look up at Ilygad, the central star to Anankos’s series of eyes and the brightest orb in the sky besides the moon. 

After the contents of all the letters were divulged, Xander briefly exited to allow the retainer’s into the library, the presence of Niles compelled Teresa to pick up her new journal and hold it firmly to her chest. She had just begun her talk with Arthur and Odin when she heard her name being called as a summons.

“Oi, Teresa.” Leo muffled voice impatiently shouted from behind a few rows of bookcases, specifically from the section of the library he had claimed as his own. 

“Excuse me.” Teresa pleaded, turning away. She briskly strode towards the fire and turned left to walk past three rows of bookcases arriving to an area that could have been entirely separate. 

To either side of the space were tables, the one to her left was rectangular and was still left in the positions that endgame had dictated, her loss after a few weeks of play. It had been a long match. Next to it and in front of one of her bookcases was a black velvet couch; the one Leo usually slumbered on when he read himself to sleep. They were not there so she turned to her right where the table supporting the newest strategy board patiently waited; on its broad top it proudly displayed a more advanced game that birthed an intricate dance of wooden strategy. 

A small smile twitched at her lips when she beheld the pieces. This board depicted the whole of Nohr and was set in a way that showed a raging civil war between east and west. Teresa had control over houses Nunn, Krakenburg, Glover, Lovelock and Stein. Iago had control of the rest and so far he was showing her how to set up a defensive campaign in farmlands and manage her supply lines more efficiently. 

The smile grew a little more. She liked those lessons. They were less stressful than tome training because she was good at them. During play, when they were both thinking of what to do, they would usually drift to other topics that riled their combined interest. Last time had been a mock debate about which teas were better and how they should be served, their teasing argument had been inconclusive with no clear winner.

“New game?” Xander asked, leaning down over her side of the table, eying the pieces that signified her family. Unlike her casual games of chess, this game actually did depict her family on the board. They still looked somewhat generic but each of the six pieces had different traits so that they could be distinguished. Rickard was not old enough to have a piece yet.

“Yes.” Teresa agreed, leaning down next to him and searching for his piece. She lightly nudged him in the ribs with a cheeky smile and pointed to it. “That’s you. You’re currently leading a defensive campaign against the Pyke in Stein lands. I need you to keep bread on my soldier’s plates.”

“Units.” Leo corrected. Units were the technical term for the pieces in this strategy game and the word gave real numerical value to them. The small pieces represented thousands of soldiers; the medium tens of thousand and the large were fifty thousand strong. The mounted pieces with horses and wyverns worked the same way, but the castles and supply pieces had different values. 

“I know, I know.” Teresa dismissively sighed, reaching over to play with Leo’s piece. “But when I say soldier’s it makes it feel like actual life is at stake.”

“You shouldn’t think about it that way.” Leo bluntly remarked, thoughtfully considering Iago’s positioning on the western side of the board, holding his chin in his fingers and crossing his arms. “Tacticians on the field need to be able to make sacrifices with their units to succeed. If you think of the lives you’re using it might hinder your decision and result in a more significant loss.”

“As Iago’s sure to remind me.” Teresa grumbled; she beheld her own tiny wooden piece, currently guarding the Glover lands and gearing up for an offensive on Cutler. When she invaded she would have Leo join in briefly to try and capture as much of their part of the river as possible. 

“I take it that learning strategy is going well for you.” Xander huffed, standing up and wandering over to Danish territory, looking down at Camilla’s wyvern piece with a sombre expression. It made her wonder if he could see something she could not so she looked to Iago’s troops in Dane lands.

“Yes, I enjoy it a lot.” She toothily grinned. “Gunter’s taught me a great deal over the years but now Iago is teaching me new ways to command.”

The conversations they had also helped. Having a friend to improve for made learning a topic much easier. And considering Iago her friend had spurned her on to improve in both tomes and strategy, she craved his approval.

“I’d be careful.” Xander warned, walking over to gaze at Cawdorian lands. “He’ll try to teach you dishonourable, sneaky ways of doing things.”

“And what’s so bad about that?” Teresa curiously mused. “Iago said that playing staunchly to traditional Nohrian war tactics is a dangerous thing to do. It makes you predictable.”

“If you don’t have the support of your soldiers then you don’t have an army.” Xander coolly began to explain. “A large majority of these men have been trained to fight honourably, and if you force them to continuously act against the grain of what they’ve been taught they’ll rebel back against you – that’s something these mindless pieces can’t teach you.”

Teresa pondered what he had to say for a moment. “That’s true. But Iago amongst other generals that use such tactics have been greatly successful with good rallying speeches explaining why such actions should be taken.”

“Rallying speeches can only do so much, sister.” Xander looked to her, voice slightly raised. “Imagine putting Gunter into scenario after scenario centred around these tactics. He’s a true knight, as honourable as they get. And I’m sure that if you made him do such things he’d turn against you too.”

“Xander’s right.” Leo agreed. “Sometimes tactics that are dishonourable can not be avoided, I acknowledge that, but they shouldn’t be relied on.”

“All right.” Teresa nodded. Her brothers had some good points.

“Only scum uses such cowardly tactics so freely.” Xander flippantly remarked. Teresa could not help but leer at him, the brews of defensive anger stirring her veins and prickling her skin. 

“You call him ‘scum’?” Teresa defensively whined.

“Yes. If you knew what atrocit-” Xander began, but Teresa was quick to cut him off with her own sharp tongue. 

“Have you ever had a conversation with him?” She abruptly asked, standing up and staring at Xander who was now leaning over Cawdor, casting a shadow over the land as he blocked the moon from kissing it.

“No. My relationship with him is strictly political. I wouldn’t trust such a man with my life, let alone anything personal.” Xander replied firmly. Teresa could tell that he did not like the way she currently challenged him, as he stood up and summoned an air of mild authority. 

Just as she was about to speak Xander cut her off on purpose.

“You’ve been conversing with him, haven’t you?” Xander scowled. “God forbid that you’ve tried to befriend him.”

“I have, actually. I can assure you that he’s very human, not the ‘scum’ you suggest he is.” Teresa confessed, crossing her arms and tilting her head. “And you have that friendship to thank for my rapid progression with strategy.”

“No, you have your own diligence and nobody else to thank for that.” Xander retorted.

“He’s put so much time into me.” Teresa corrected, thinking about the longer hours with her he had recently committed to. 

“He wants to please father.” Xander quickly responded.

“Yes, he does.” She briskly agreed. “But he also wants to see me succeed.”

“He’s using your training as a ploy to gain favour – to do the ‘impossible’ and raise your tome level.” Xander bit back, wincing when he realized what he had said. She closed her eyes and sharply inhaled with disbelief, to try and calm down for their retainer’s sakes so that they would not have to hear a potentially massive dispute.

“You lied about having faith in me?” Teresa quietly growled through gritted teeth, trying to draw back the shock of being struck that way by her own brother. Her heart began to mope and shudder as it belatedly registered what was going on. Not once had Xander believed she was incapable of doing something. Months earlier he had maintained his faith in her, even though she suspected he might think otherwise. It had comforted her even if it was fake, but to actually hear him say it hurt her.

“I didn’t lie. I have faith in you, really, I do. It’s just…” He paused briefly and awkwardly swept some hair from his face, unable to complete his sentence.

“You’ll see.” She angrily pointed at him. “When I get through this stupid tome block you’ll see. And when I do you’d better thank Iago for dragging me through this shit. Oh, and in the upcoming summer tourney I’ll wipe the floor with you in human chess. You’ll have to thank him for that as well.”

“Teresa!” Xander disapprovingly hissed; he despised it when she swore. 

“Sister, please don’t be rash. Showing both of you up publicly wouldn’t be a good idea.” Leo quietly interrupted, but it was lost beside their brother’s jeer.

“You’re being oversensitive!” Xander said as if commanding her. 

Teresa scoffed in disbelief and gestured to herself. “Me? Oversensitive? This isn’t me being oversensitive, this is me being hurt, Xander. You’d know that if you were around me more often!”

She cut herself off and pointed a finger down onto the table. “In fact. In the four months I’ve spent training with Iago he’s visited me more often than you ever did in the three years you just disappeared.”

“He’s obliged to!” Xander angrily snapped back. “I have a duty to father-”

“You had a duty to me too! As your sister who needed you!” Teresa whined back, perhaps it was wrong to make this conversation so much more personal, but it was already too late to back down from the topic now. “And you’re doing the same to Elise and Leo! You’re distancing yourself from us because you can’t take one second out to listen and spend time with us!”

“You don’t understand!” He barked in return, pointing his finger back at her. “I don’t always have time to look after you all! If you weren’t so selfish about it you’d fathom that!”

“Selfish?” She sneered, “You can’t say that when you’ve been equally as self-centred. I made time for you, Xander. I spent hours waiting for you when you said you would come but you never did! I’d sleep up on the wall waiting – praying for you to come. It’s like you just pretended that I didn’t exist anymore and the worst part was that I still don’t fully understand why.”

Xander cupped his hands to his face and rubbed it before stroking back his hair again, cheeks now flushed with fuming intensity. She wasted no time keeping on her role.

She exhaled and calmed down a little before speaking again. “You fucked up with me, Xander. I know we’ve both been trying to fix this now, but it’s so hard to. Do you want this for, Leo? For Elise? Do you want them to have to try and forge new links like this?”

He remained silent, pursing his lips and closing his eyes, tilting his head to the ceiling.

“You know you left me at such a vulnerable time. I was alone here, not allowed to come to the castle. I depended on your visits.” She sighed, stopping herself from confessing everything she felt, she still did not think that he was ready for the entirety of it yet. “I had the others come visit, but sometimes I really just wanted to pick up a sword and duke it out with you, you know?"

Xander took a deep breath. She felt like she was shaking with a flurry of emotion. Anger, sadness, betrayal, the distinct feeling of wanting to forge strong bonds with her brother but not knowing how exactly to fix them, even fear.

“Look, whatever. If you’re not careful, Xander, Elise will end up as upset with you as I am. She needs you now that Camilla’s not here. She needs you to help nurture her. You have no excuse not to at least talk with her, her wing is directly next to yours.” 

“All right.” Xander agreed, turning away from her and looking out of the window. Whenever he did that it meant the conversation was over, regardless if she wanted it to be or not. 

After a brief pause and sigh she looked to Leo. He stood rigid and awkward against the wall, staring intensely at a singular spot on the board. His piece. He was not supposed to hear all of that. In fact, that was the first time he had heard her argue with Xander about their broken sibling bond. 

“I’m sorry, Leo.” She sniffed, picking up the silk wrapped book from where she had subconsciously placed it on the edge of the board. She could not remember when it had happened. “You weren’t supposed to hear any of that.”

“No – umm … that’s ok.” He uneasily replied, still not gazing at either of them. 

She winced a little bit with the headache that had started to rumble forth, like the snarling thunder from an incoming storm. Teresa gently pinched the area between her eyes and soothingly rubbed the uncomfortable one with her thumb. But the left over heat from her angry outburst had left her hand hot and uncomfortable.

“I’m going to go to my room for a little bit. If you need me for anything just send Flora or Felicia.” She swallowed, becoming aware of the dryness in her mouth. 

“All right.” Leo agreed, this time bravely looking to her.

Teresa simply nodded and turned away, walking towards the other strategy board where her card had been watching them on the edge, having placed itself there. Without much thought she picked it up and slipped it into the silk cover of her new journal, one that she might write angry words in later on. 

She strode into one of the aisles the bookcases made and continued to the end where she turned left and progressed for the double doors. Not wanting to catch the glances of anyone that might have overheard she looked down to her boots and slid to the door, quickly opening it and slinking out without closing it behind her. 

Nobody seemed to notice her go. That or nobody wanted her to feel any more awkward.

Teresa took an immediate left and quietly ambled back, the headache was growing in intensity and made her feel a little queasy. But the cooling of her blood and slow, hurt beating of her heart in her chest and throat felt even worse. 

She was not sorry for what she had said, she would never apologise for something that was the truth, but she did feel shamed that she had allowed the argument to stretch needlessly into that territory. 

Lately her relationship with Xander had been better than it had been for a long time and improving consistently, to the point where he had began to visit her more often, even without the presence of Camilla’s letters. But now she feared that she had set that progress back again and had unnecessarily ended up hurting them both.

As she angrily jogged up the spirals stairs of her spire, her hot breath irritating her dry mouth, she realized that Xander probably would not come again for a long time.

When she entered her room at the top of Maiden’s Spire she placed the book down on a chair in the seating area close to the entrance. Instinctively she turned back to the door and acquired the pink ribbon from the inside handle to place on its outside twin. This ribbon would tell her staff that she needed some time to cool off. She locked the door with all the bolts and made sure that the other door that connected her spire to Felicia and Flora’s quarters in the Sister Spire was unlocked for emergency use.

It would be unfair to bite the heads off of her staff if they disturbed her. It was not their fault. 

Teresa did not bother to get undressed, she simply slung herself onto her bed, face down against the cold pillow to try and remedy her erupting headache. The fire in her room must have been dying, because it felt pleasantly cool and the curtains were drawn so that it was mostly dark. 

For a while she just lay there, thinking of nothing but feeling everything, every pain and miserable flutter her body mustered. Even the twitching of her lower lip, but she battled back any tears that might want to crawl free and curled onto her side.

She distracted herself with thoughts of poetry until she fell asleep, the numb headache tumbling away into a void where she pranced around the fields of Windham’s farming Halo, collecting rocks for no particular reason. Strangely, the sun had replaced the moon, but it was not bright like day, Nohr’s sky still glimmered with stars. But it felt swelteringly hot like it could have been summer in a southern territory, far too hot for where Windham was.

She threw one of the rocks into the field of wheat and walked towards it. Once she had reached it she threw another rock far away and followed that one as well, she did that for long time until she noticed a distant figure clad in red. It was tall and despite not being able to see them all too well she could tell that they were facing away from her atop a hill, towards mountains that did not actually exist within Windham’s sights. 

Even though she felt this person to be dangerous and wanted to turn away, her body carried her forward as if they tugged at her with invisible string.

“No.” She told herself, repeating it like a chant.

Wind began to beat at the wheat in the field that had started to thin, then grow in patches and later disappear beneath rocks entirely. 

This person clad in red still faced away from her, away to where she could tell a cold, steely moon was rising. She walked up the small stone hill, snow gently fell from the stars like each one was crying, and they did not melt in the heat of the sun or warmth of her flesh. 

She continued to tell herself not to go towards him whilst her heart thundered like it might fly away out her throat, the hair stood up on the back of her neck and her loose hair beat in the wind like a teal flag. Soon her loud whimpers and pleas not to progress were lost to a gale as it howled like a thousand angry wolves. 

Wet, fleshy things could be felt beneath her feet, hot liquid painting them as she rose to the crest of the hill, but she was too frightened to look down. Teresa slipped and grasped something damp and hairy with her hand, but never looked as she stood up and continued to walk. Beyond the hill was tundra thick with short grasses of pale purple, dull green and grey. 

Her heart beat fast when the person turned to her. 

He was clad entirely in scarlet robes that hung elegantly from his bleached skin, and atop his head sat a red spiky crown. It appeared somewhat soft and velvety between patches of sticky red gore. The crown along with his incredibly long black hair clashed with his deathly pale skin and colourless eyes, even his pupil was a soft grey colour, just darker than his silver irides and sclera. 

High cheekbones allowed his hair, parted down the centre to frame his face, to slither over his cheeks like a waterfall. Feminine features made him appear more beautiful than handsome, striking her with a strange type of awe. She felt the air around him; becoming lost amongst the pervasive regal manner it smothered her with. 

The rainbow light of dawn beyond made him appear almost divine. It was odd to her, the moon was rising alongside the dawn and the servile sun was now setting with the claws of night, the celestial bodies had switched places and roles.

Slowly, he brought his hand to her cheek, she shivered with the way he touched her, it felt intimate and invasive, and his icy cold skin only added to the feeling that she had been thrown into frigid water. Snow continued to amble down from the sky, covering the both of them with a thin crust of white.

He smiled and said something in a strange dialect that she could not entirely catch before moving a curled finger to her cheekbone, gently stroking it against the area whilst she began to sluggishly freeze.

He used his thumbs to draw open her eyes and gazed into them. When he was satisfied he tilted her head to the side to look at something else, then re-centred her gaze back to him. Lastly he stroked her lips with an arctic thumb before plunging it inside her hot mouth, recoiling when he nicked it on her sharp fang. Instead of scowling with pain he smiled with great happiness, as if he had found something exciting. 

She could taste the blood in her mouth, it had the typical metal tang, but the colour from his thumb was much deeper than normal, a shade closer to that of garnet. 

He spoke to her again with great delight. Somehow it brought human emotion to his Godly face and made him look mortal and vulnerable. Teresa could even swear that he looked like he might cry with joy and turmoil.

“You are not of my own blood...” She did not hear what else he said; it seemed to fall away behind the sound of her heartbeat and into his incredibly thick accent. Despite wanting to answer her lips felt like they were solid and cold air lay lazy and heavy in her lungs.

It looked like he might say something else. 

THUMP.

The loud noise made Teresa start with an involuntary squeal, and in the near pitch black of her room she fumbled for the dagger beneath her pillow. When her quaking fingers found the freezing steel she crouched on her bed and peered into the darkness, trying to let her eyes adjust. 

Intently she listened but nothing else happened. Nobody lunged from the clutches of shadow and from what light was available her room did not look disturbed. 

Satisfied that nobody was lurking around her she warily left her bed and turned to tend the fire. It took her some time to get the flames burning brightly, but when they burst to life she relished the warmth. The room was a lot cooler than it usually was, especially now that they were approaching mid summer. 

It took her a brief moment to remember what had happened earlier on. A fleeting look out the window granted her sight of the moon, which told her that it was around two in the morning. Most of her staff would be asleep, as would her siblings. Whilst she gazed at the falling celestial body, let the beams kiss her face, she decided that she would apologise to Xander in the morning. Not because of the truth of her words, but because she had brought the argument into personal territory. If she woke him now he would only become grumpy and would grow angrier with her, then she would have to apologise for that too. 

Teresa let the curtain fall before her face, smothering the moonlight. As she stretched her arms above her head and stood on the tips of her toes she savoured the feeling of distending the tension in her muscles. With the stretch the last of the cold was gone, as if she had been thawed and was alive again. 

After a yawn she slapped her tongue against the roof of her mouth and thought that she tasted a very faint trace of blood. Confused, she stuck a finger inside to feel around for a cut. Her mouth was almost entirely dry; her finger could not find any grazes. 

It took her a while to remember the dream, the man that had cut his finger on her fang and had gleefully looked upon her when he did so. She tried to taste the blood again but all she could taste was the musty dry fur that came with lack of water and deep sleep. Perhaps the taste was just the last remnants of that strange place she had visited, nothing to worry about.

She looked to her bedside and saw a pitcher of water and goblet that had not been there before, meaning that one of her staff had tended to her whilst she slept. Some dried fruit, bread and cheese sat on a plate beside it. From the way everything was neatly positioned and the specific order of the food she could tell that it had been Flora. 

Her thirst drew her forward to down glass after glass of water; eventually she finished it all and left the glass and pitcher on the table. Maybe the thump had been Flora closing the door a little too loudly. 

The next thing she did was strip from her clothing and put on a nightdress, a slightly thicker one than she usually would have for summer but her room was cold tonight. When she was satisfied with the grey item she crawled back into bed and slept without dream till she was stirred the next morning.

She dressed quickly for breakfast and marched down to the mess hall, when she entered Leo and Elise were eating with their retainers close by their sides. Teresa took her modest throne and discretely leaned over to Leo. 

“Where’s Xander?” 

“He left yesterday evening.” Leo whispered; eying the egg he had scooped up with his fork. 

“Damn.” Teresa hissed to herself, massaging her temples and releasing a big, disheartened sigh. She had not even been able to apologise to him, or even say goodbye. 

As she listened to her sibling’s converse she pinched the bridge of her nose and ruefully lost herself in thought about when he might visit next. When they fought Xander would stay away for a long time, and the longer the period the more their crippled bond would suffer. 


	12. Lifeblood of Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teresa and Iago come up with an idea that might help solve her problems with magic.

# ~ A Minute Before Dawn~

# Blooming Moon Arc

### Chapter Twelve: Lifeblood of Monsters

Words from her book faded away, dulled from gallant stories of war and knights to the confines of her stony citadel; speckled sky hanging broad above it. Teresa lounged atop the stone indent of her portcullis, the throne she used when she excitedly waited for her kin or Gunter to arrive. Now she could add friends to the list, as she had waited for Iago here every time he was due to arrive for the past month. And here she sat again.

Braying horses could be heard coming over the bridge, clattering of hooves on stone creating a hollowed marching sound. Slowly, she swung the leg she had lazily slung down over the wall, the other pushed a little more against the opposing crag, bracing herself. 

With one hand she closed the book and handed it to Jakob, who stood tall besides her, looking to the oncoming party. He took the brown volume and clutched it against his chest, neatly preened with his butler garbs of Krakenburg black and purple. 

Teresa turned her gaze downward to the noble lord that progressed, his modest party of maids trailing closely behind him. His stare was turned up toward her and an amused smirk playing at his lips. Like her, he was dressed casually and in lighter clothing to stave off some of the oncoming summer heat. First dawn would be waking in the next week or two, then for a month they would have a proper day and night cycle, including the sweltering waves of dry heat that passionately flourished alongside it. 

Their eye contact was interrupted as he looked away, travelling beneath the gates. After rolling her stiffened shoulders against her throne’s stony back piece she stood up and stretched the rest of her rigid form, taking the time to grab her torch and saunter towards the stairs. She made a beeline for the stables where she abandoned her fostered light to a stablehand, eagerly pacing over toward Iago, he was handing his horse over to Lilith. 

Over the smell of horse and hay, even the sweat of the stablehands and musk of her dogs next-door, she could trace his now familiar scent, smoky and herby with a hint of something floral and sweet. 

“Iago.” Teresa hailed, her smile growing when he spun around and bowed to her. 

“Princess, I trust today has fared you well.” He grinned and stretched his arms, wiggling his taut looking fingers. 

“Of course. And you?” 

“Today did me great kindness.” He casually acknowledged before efficiently and rather suddenly continuing. “We’ve had a change of plans for tonight.” 

He briefly paused to order Lilith to unclip his saddlebag and hand it to him, at the same time he leant against the side of the stable. Her petite stablehand compliantly nodded and tended to his mare with adept and gentle hands. Hexrei was adorned in gold’s and reds, ebony paired saddlebags hung from her hips. Sprouting from the pommel section of the saddle like two rectangular buds were twin tome sheaths of red leather, empty. The crimson saddle pad was plain; toward the rear corner the Cawdorian stag and Nohr’s all encompassing Krakenburg sigil proudly clung.

“Oh?” She inquisitively mused, returning her misplaced gaze back to his face whilst placing a hand on her hip.

“I’ll be bleeding you instead.” Iago nonchalantly stated. “More blood is required for the Faceless. A trainee mage made a mistake recording the amount we had left. Today, when I stopped by to check, I found that we only have enough for another week rather than another month.” 

“I see.” Teresa pondered, pursing her lips and nodding her head; that seemed like an odd thing for him to forget about. She had come to notice that Iago was an exceedingly organised person, and his Cawdorian heritage only exacerbated this nature that was so engrained into him. “It’s not like you to let a detail like that slip away. Is everything alright?”

“Of course!” Iago enthusiastically reassured. It was in the same manner he assured her father when something was asked of him, eager and almost singsong. “I’ve had a greater workload dealing with other things over these past few weeks. Your training, preparation for an upcoming military drill, unforeseen expenses and some of Prince Xander’s tasks as well. A man can’t keep track of everything, no matter how meticulous he is – besides, I’d rather have lost track of that than forget about military preparations or miscalculate expenses. On my grand list of things to do, blood deposits aren’t of the highest importance currently.”

“You were coming to see me anyway.” Teresa coolly stated.

“Precisely why it’s not so important. I see you every few days. Blood letting doesn’t need to be scheduled like it used to now that I can simply chip into training time to conduct such an affair.” 

She grinned and looked down for a moment, pushing herself onto the balls of her feet to dispel a sudden bout of energy. It had bloomed from the thought of him visiting her, even though he was supposed to as part of his duty. Something about his visits had begun to excite her, probably their casual talks and the consistent rhythm of somebody travelling to see her. To share in her excitement of poetry, drink tea and teach her new things. 

By the time she had softly descended back onto the heel of her feet she had begun to wonder if her training were a small matter to him, if it was straining his workload. 

“Umm … Iago.” She began, fingers drifting down to meet each other, pulling and clawing at their parallel counterparts. She rolled her head back and down and looked briefly to the side. 

“Yes?”

“If my training is distracting you from other, more pressing work, please feel free to skip a session or two. Ok?” It dampened her mood to say that, to contemplate that he might need to take a break from her to get back on top of his work. But it would hurt worse if he made a more costly mistake and father scolded him for it. She did not want that for him. 

Iago humbly smiled and slowly shook his head from side to side. “My lady, I made a commitment to train you, to you and to your father. I won’t forsake this commitment. My workload is manageable and there are other, much more trivial things I can drop before I even need to consider skipping sessions.”

A small, sweet sigh of relief fluttered from her lips, thankful that his familiar visits would not momentarily cease. But then her thoughts drifted to their task today. Bleeding could take a long time depending on the number of Faceless to be created; there was no foreseeing the extent tonight’s session. “Any chance that we might get some training in today anyway?”

“Not likely.” He sniffed, sights turning to behold her head stablehand. His heavy saddlebag was cradled in her arms like a fat foal. Iago reached over the stable door and took the obese bag for himself, thanking Lilith as she bowed to him and returned to untacking his calm beauty of a horse. 

Once the saddlebag was secured on his shoulder he continued. “But, I was thinking that I could show you something different as compensation.”

“And what would that be?” She asked in a lightened tone, invigorated by the comforting blanket of warmth that clung to her.

“I guess that you’ll have to wait and see.” The hint of a smile on his lips and slight playful hint in his voice made it seem like he was teasing her. Her smile grew with the confident and spirited air he asserted. He had been starting to tease her as of late, to her it seemed like he fostered the same sense of friendship and admiration that she had begun to hold dear to herself.

“All right. Do you have everything you need in that bag?” Teresa finitely asked; nodding to the item slung over his shoulder. It bit into his clothing a little bit, making the weight of the plain bag look uncomfortable, Iago did not seem fussed. 

“Yes, my lady.” He agreed. She scoffed at the use of a formal title, if he felt comfortable enough to tease and joke with her as often as he did in recent times, surely he would be relaxed enough to use her name.

“You can drop the titles now.” Teresa remarked before remembering that around others it might be considered too inappropriate to address her without it. “Well, around me you can drop the titles. I won’t bite your hand off for calling me by my name.”

“If it pleases you.” He agreed and bowed his head. She giggled again and he huffed with prying amusement.

“What?”

“There’s no need to bow to me either.” She mused, reaching out to pat his forearm. Through the clothing his flesh felt warm, so much for the cold northern blood people claimed to the Cawdor. It was said to make them callous and distant, the man before her was neither of those things.

“All right.” He agreed, eye modest and smile earnest. 

“Come.” She announced, urging him to walk beside her. Jakob and some of his maid’s would linger subserviently beyond their heels. 

“For what I was thinking, it would be best to bleed you in an open area.” He stated, it seemed that she had been correct about the weight of the saddlebag; his hand adjusted it to a more comfortable spot on his shoulder.

“Jakob.” Teresa summoned, her butler keenly crossed the space to walk by her side. 

“My lady.” The ashen man addressed her with honeyed voice. 

“Please, place some chairs and a table in the Split Garden. I’ll be bled there today.” Teresa requested, her butler eagerly agreed and paced off to retrieve what was needed. Jakob took the left to cross through the soldier’s barracks; before Iago could turn she grabbed his elbow and gently urged him straight down the guest wing corridor. 

“Taking the long route today?” Iago smirked, looking down to confidently meet her gaze. 

“Mmm-hmm.” Teresa hummed in agreement, letting her hand linger on his elbow for a little longer. Once they had passed the second corridor that led through the mages barracks, she let go and urged him to keep walking forward with her. However, as they passed his quarters he came to a brief stop and turned to his maids.

“Tend to my room. Princess Teresa’s staff will serve us if we have need of them.” He announced, then relaxedly striding up to where she stood slightly ahead of him. His maids did not question him; they simply entered his room and began their service. 

They both loitered on silently for a short while. 

“Are you looking forward to the dawn, Teresa?” Iago asked; he seemed enraptured and discreetly excited by the upcoming event. From the way his grin sat on his face she wondered if goading him on would break the teetering wall keeping his anticipation locked up.

“Yes, it’s always beautiful.” Teresa sighed in wholehearted agreement. “You seem more enthusiastic for it than I do though.”

“I suppose that I always will be. I love the sun.” He sighed as if reminiscing and appeared to drift away to a different place for a second. 

“Are you going to take time off to enjoy the festivities in Windham? Or is that a silly question in light of this tremendous workload you have?” Teresa asked, brushing some of her hair to the side and looking up to his face. 

“I would if I could, but my work will always come first.” He ruefully confessed. She knew that he was not typically a man for festivals, but the summer ones seemed to hold fast to an intimate place in his heart. 

“Shame.” Teresa shook her head from side to side. 

“Indeed.” Iago agreed; dismissing any disheartening thoughts with a lengthy exhale. “But that’s life in my stead. Honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He placed a hand on the top of her back, just above her shoulder blade and moved her through an archway, into the rear courtyard where they planned to cross to the western side of the castle. 

Teresa sniggered to herself with an amusing thought. “Perhaps, next time you visit I’ll set up a festival for you.” 

She looked to him and he appeared to be equally interested. 

“A festival for one man?” He scoffed.

“Why not?” 

“It wouldn’t be a summer festival then.” He corrected her, hand sliding down to her mid back and then away entirely, this time resting on the saddlebag mounted to his other side. “It would be the ‘Iago Festival’.” 

She nodded to some passing mages who were taking strong interest in Iago’s presence.

“One man not worth celebrating.” He humbly murmured, earning a jeering hiss from Teresa, she softly pulled at his arm with her hand. 

“That’s bullshit.” She impulsively stated, wincing when she realized that she had cursed in front of a highborn lord, a very well groomed and proper one at that. “My apologies.”

“You’ve nothing to apologise for. On the field of battle you’ll hear worse words. Many commanders don’t have the time or diligence to filter their mouths.” He smirked. “There isn’t a curse word that I haven’t heard.”

“I shan’t speak that way again, in any case.” She huffed, at least in his presence she would not. 

“They’re just words.” Iago flippantly remarked. 

She sighed and continued what she was going to say before. “You command over so much and see that this Kingdom is maintained in father’s honour. That is something worth celebrating in my opinion.”

“I’m taken by your kind words.” He modestly acknowledged, no matter how he tried he could not hide the grin blossoming on his face and the smile in his eye from her. 

“Good.” She nodded and walked through the opposing archway, towards her spire that was situated next to the gardens. 

“In all seriousness, I hope that you will not create a mock festival to honour me.” He stated, voice oozing with a strange authority she had not heard from him before. Usually it would have nagged at her, in light of her new sense of friendship for him she felt nothing of it, if anything she was more content listening.

“I was only joking.” She airily dismissed, waving her hand as if to swat away a pesky insect. 

“Of course.” He agreed in a way that exaggerated doubt in her statement, drawing in a deep breath. 

They rounded the corner past her doorway and entered the garden. It was a strange thing, a central corridor split the verdant area in two, creating a narrow line that lead directly towards her library’s sentinel doors. On the wall side of the garden, an oak stood tall and the ground was thick with grasses. Berry bushes adhered near the walls like an overly anxious child to its mother. The other side of the garden, closer to the central line of the citadel, was more forest like with a carpet of trees blocking out parts of the sky. Some scattered moonlight kissed the water of the pond their roots cradled, within it fish of silver swum amongst chilled black water. 

Above the stony corridor was an arched rood, burrowing from its sides to the ground below were bone coloured columns, unusually crisp compared with their surroundings. As they thrust down they formed twin arcades that appeared like a strange, malformed ribcage. From the corridor floor a small, shallow crop of steps slunk down to the plush ground on one side and the gnarled, hungry tree roots on the other. 

Jakob had set up two chairs and two small, round tables beneath the oak trees, he stood by the wall and before the berry laden bushes with hands behind his back. As they approached he bowed his head, respectfully to her, impudently towards Iago. Like always the noble lord ignored him. At this point Teresa speculated that Jakob’s behaviour towards him was something Iago did not have the energy to bother attempting to resolve. 

Or perhaps he merely did what she did when Elise was acting childishly. Ignored unbecoming behaviour until the instigator realised their behaviour was not earning them attention. However, she doubted this. Jakob had always been aloof by nature; it had even taken her a while to earn his unyielding trust and devotion. 

“I trust this simple set up will suffice, my lady.” He purred to her.

“Yes.” She agreed, surveying the wall and its ballista above them. Nobody was guarding it today, yet again; this small section was rarely manned, without the assistance of wyvern, it was impossible to get to. Warping onto it was also very dangerous due to the thin pathway and incredibly small barrier crowning the ramparts. 

“Would my lady and my lord like any refreshment?” Jakob questioned.

“Yes, some tea would suffice.” Iago indifferently, placing his saddlebag down next to the closer seat. He outlined the way he wanted his tea served, but the way Jakob nodded told her that he was already well versed with Iago’s typical requests.

“I’ll have some tea as well, Jakob.” Teresa smiled and sat down, instinctively placing her left hand on the small, round table, with her calloused palm facing upward. 

“Yes, my lady.” Jakob murmured.

“Don’t forget the water.” Iago ordered, not looking at the butler, instead drawing the dagger that was well hidden at his side. Its silver blade and black hilt glimmered keenly in the candlelight. Its emblazoned hilt seemed to be modelled after an antler, fitting for his house’s sigil, runes circling all around its exterior. It rung softly when he placed it down next to her arm, as if it buzzed with anticipation to taste her again. 

Then he retrieved a festal, a healing implement that was not often used in Nohr but equally effective as its stave cousin. It was small and silvery; some fabric with Hoshidan writing lay on the cotton slips, leaf like in appearance. She silently read the prayers on whilst Iago retrieved a small, white bowl, tea tree oil, clear bottles and plain cotton squares of fabric. 

He would submerge her hand in water and tea tree oil to prevent infection, letting her blood run freely and regularly changing it out in favour for fresh water and oil. In the meantime she would bleed out onto the fabric. None of her blood would go to waste and any that split Iago was always sure to destroy with fire. 

Jakob quickly returned with the water, two massive jugs of it, and two drinking goblets. 

“Thank you.” Iago acknowledged, lifting the jug and pouring the water into the white bowl. Jakob quickly retreated to make the tea. Next came the enticing scent of tea tree oil, a mix between pine and herbs married to something musky. 

“And so it begins.” Teresa sighed, letting Iago lift the dagger and bracing against the momentary biting pain. Its steel felt incredibly cold despite that it probably gripped to Iago and his radiating warmth on the ride here. He made a neat cut horizontally along her palm and delicately placed it into the water where it began to sting even more, once a few seconds dripped past it numbed to a dull throb. 

“The waiting that is.” Iago smiled, picking up some of the white cloth to wipe her blood off the dagger, pinching the blade and thoroughly cleaning it. “Remember, if you’re feeling like you’re going to pass out let me know and we’ll stop immediately.”

“All right.” She dismissively smiled, sinking back into the chair. “So, what do you have to show me?” She inquired, watching him take out a tiny wooden box, fold the bloodied square and place it inside. It was left open.

“My, my, so eager today. Do you want to guess?” He mused, smile obviously teasing. He finished polishing the blood off of the blade and sheathed it at his side once more.

“Umm.” She sighed, rolling her eyes upwards to think. “Well, I’d think it to be a magic trick.” 

“It is.” He pursed his lips and titled his head to the side. “But that was obvious, wasn’t it? Oh, and calling it a ‘trick’ makes it seem like children can do it.”

“Ah, fine.” She growled in mock annoyance. 

“Come on, it’s exceedingly obvious.” He stated, gazing into the bloodied water. With each second it became more tainted by the red, wispy tendrils crawling from her cut into fading clarity of the bowl, into the darkening murk. 

“Hmm.” She thought again. Something magic related and obvious. She looked at her blood and came up with an idea. “Is it summoning Faceless?”

He tsked with annoyance. “Yes, took you long enough.”

“I’m not experienced enough for that yet.” She dryly remarked. 

“Exactly.” He purred, piquing her interest.

“How’s exactly does this benefit me?” Teresa shrugged, registering a vague discontent at her inability to fully engage it what he was going to show her.

“I wanted you to see what your blood was contributing to. I also thought that showing you how they are summoned might encourage you to improve. Once you’re done with this rank I’d be willing to supervise your attempt at summons myself.” He stated, observing her hand again and then, when he had decided she could bleed for a while longer, abruptly stood up.

“Teach away.” She smoothly gestured to the space in front of them with her free, unwounded hand.

“First of all, you are required to sit tests to make sure that you have the diligence to control these creatures – but because they are all mostly birthed from your blood you’ll find that you’ll have natural authority over them.” Iago expounded, continuing when he saw her head tilt to the side with slight confusion. “When we used Leo’s blood he was able to control them without any effort what so ever. We think that it’s because they were spawned of him, it was the same with your father.”

“But Leo has a natural talent for magic.” Teresa bluntly observed. “Even father has an innate ability for it.”

“Even the most experienced mages and sorcerers have trouble from time to time.” He began. “I’ve watched very well versed men who haven’t had an issue with their Faceless horde for years lose control of them. It happens from time to time.”

Iago smirked then, begging Teresa’s eager purr. “What? What are you thinking about?”

“Prince Leo would have my head if he knew that I’d told you this.” Iago shallowly acknowledged, keeping his voice down as much as he could. Before he spoke he gestured a ‘shush’ sign with his finger on his lips. “He’s lost control of your Faceless before.” 

“Has he?” Teresa doubtfully asked. Her ebon-headed tutor nodded. 

“Never had an issue with his Faceless, but when we started using your blood he had problems taking some of your spawn under his wings. Never did he once have a concern with his own. If anything they had padded over and purred to him like little kittens.”

She thought of a small horde of Faceless hearing her approach, sauntering over and treating her like their parent had just come home. It gave her an equally amusing idea. “So I’d be like their mother?” She teased, surprising herself when he nodded. 

“You could say that, I suppose.” He lightly chuckled before raising the sleeve of his tunic; he rolled it up so that the length of his pale forearm was exposed. “Anyway, after that a rite of summons is required by Nohrian law. Without making a blood contract you cannot summon them at all. And because the Faceless are so notorious only a select few have the authority to do so. I’m one of them, there’s your father and Leo – a few to the south, but most of them are patrolling the eastern border.”

He turned a little away from her and extended his casting arm, his palm facing outwards. Aching complaints from the cut on her palm had settled down, now she could barely feel it. 

“Like any summoning you must invoke their will through name. In Runic you simply say ‘Evoke Faceless’, and if you say it with authority and determination they will come forth. Watch.” Iago commanded at the end.

He thrust his hand out a little more into the air in front of himself and called: “Elicio Sines-visia.” 

Recognisable runes glowing orange and gold formed a perfect series of circles around him, they did the same around his arm and another separate circle of just runes flashed brilliantly upward. A metallic crackling gently prickled her cheeks and in the air she could feel the weight of Iago’s distinct magic. It was a strange combination of cold, oily and sandy moisture on her skin and in her sinuses. At the same time a matching set of magic circles appeared a few paces away from him, birthing the form of a massive, dark green Faceless. 

Humanoid creatures of epic proportions, is how she described them. A few stray memories irked forward as the behemoth appeared, but they were unclear and from a distance, Teresa had never seen one of these hulking monsters up so close. 

As the runes faded and the steely moonlight returned, glimmering off of the bolts encrusted in its flesh, its green skin appeared to shine with a teal visage. The beast was adorned by black leather straps and even donned shoes to protect its feet from pointy rocks and malicious tree roots. Parts of its body held stitches that seemed as if they wanted to burst, and like the bolts, they leaked a clear, slightly rancid fluid. Chains hung from shackled fists and groin although this Faceless was currently unbound and unhindered.

Apart from the tremendous height and bulk, slightly bigger in both aspects than father and Ganz, its grey, leather mask was its most striking feature. A series of holes covered the front so that the beast could breathe and groan freely with the restriction. To the side of the mask, long leaf like outgrowths covered its pointed ears and toward the top twin horns of metal sprouted, smaller than her hand. 

Despite its terrible mien and rotting stench she did not feel fearful of it, it was in Iago’s control, he would never see harm come to her. Thumping heart and a light veneer of sweat made it seem like the rest of her body disagreed with her stoic mind.

“And this lovely …” Iago purred and trailed off; raising his hands to cradle the beasts chin. For a humanoid so notorious and vicious it seemed pleased by the scratching of Iago’s lacquered fingernails. “… Is one of our Faceless from your most recent brood, they all proved very capable.”

Teresa chuckled at the strange scene, the creature almost acted like the malformed cats Iago had described, it purred and contently leaned into the scratching. “It’s hard to believe they’re so frightening.” 

“They’re mindless and thrive off of instinct.” Iago stated whilst adjusting one of the buckles around the Faceless’s muzzled maw, tightening it. “They do as their master bids them. I’m willing this one to act submissively, but in the blink of an eye, a moment of violent thought or brief distraction I could send it rampaging around your gardens and library.”

“You’d better not.” She scoffed with fake offence. “I’ll see that you pay for all of my destroyed books and I’d watch you replant the shrubbery yourself.”

“I’d be a very broke, very dirty man.” Iago remarked back, brushing his hands along the outside of his pants and returning to his chair. “It’s time to switch this out.”

“Ok.” Teresa agreed, still eyeing off the Faceless as Iago removed her hand from the bloodied, rosé coloured water. The cotton tickled her palm as he gently dried it. Once satisfied, he poured the sullied water into a bottle and refilled the small bowl with water and oil. This motion was quick and adept because he had done it so many times, before she had even comprehended the entire gesture her hand was back in the liquid, the rag she had used was spirited away to the small box.

“Feeling fine?” Iago murmured whilst sitting back into his seat, drying his hands on another square of fabric. Some faint pink was left on the white; it was hidden away with the other dirty squares when he was finished with it. 

“As fine as a girl can be when being bled and looking at a hungry monster.” She nodded towards the Faceless that mournfully groaned and began to slowly approach. “It’s not attracted to my blood, is it?” 

“No, if anything your blood would only make it think that you’re its kin. The smell of it, that is.” Iago explained, crossing one leg over the other and sighing as he watched Jakob cautiously approach with the first pot of tea. It would be his; Teresa had begun to insist that Jakob serve her lordly guest before her, sometimes Jakob did not much to her chagrin. 

“Its mother?” Teresa questioned again, gesturing to Jakob that it was safe to approach.

“I guess.” Iago confirmed again, watching the butler bravely place the teapot and cups down on the smaller table between them, pretending that the monster did not skulk closer behind him. He poured Iago’s tea and took a step back, brusquely eyeing the lord beside her.

“Your tea as you like it, my lord.” Jakob almost glibly acknowledged before turning to her. “Your tea will be ready in a moment, my lady.”

“Thank you.” Teresa nodded to her butler and he strode off, entirely ignoring the verdant skinned fiend that had taken a strong interest in him, perhaps as his lunch. Iago leant over to pick up the cup and saucer. 

“Curious. Many people are alarmed by these beasts.” He took a sip and swallowed it; even after seeing him drink so many times she still winced with how such hot tea could be consumed like it was nothing to him. “Yet your butler just waltzes on over as if it were a statue.”

“I don’t think one of these things would stop Jakob from serving me.” Teresa remarked, allowing the Faceless to stand right next to her, she found herself oddly calm, even tempted to touch it. “You could place me in Hoshido – anywhere in Hoshido – and tell him to find me and he would.”

“Such faith.” Iago observed, placing the saucer and its spouse of a cup down, he turned to better behold her. “It must be a relief to know that there’s at least one person out there that would do everything for you.”

“You don’t have such a person?” Teresa questioned, gazing away from the Faceless to observe him, but he looked the same as ever. Neutral and deeply thoughtful mixed with a faint lick of amusement and what could be superiority. 

“In my position it is not wise to trust anybody. Nor should you.” Iago clearly stated. Teresa thought of how prized Iago’s position was and nodded in agreement, slowly reaching up to scratch the Faceless’s chin. Its skin felt hot and leathery, dry as a bone, and its humid breath stuck to her forehead as it purred with enjoyment. 

“What? So you don’t trust me?” Teresa asked, the fingers in the bloodying water flexed and skimmed the surface, disturbing it with a sudden but slight nervous bout. Iago looked to her with a soft smile. “It’s not a personal affront, I hope. It’s just, your siblings and their interactions with me have made me somewhat cautious.” 

“Oh?” Teresa questioned, brow creasing. She remembered Xander and Leo’s reaction and frowned, they both strongly dislike him. From months before she had a brief memory of Camilla being reserved. “If you don’t mind my asking, how so?”

“I haven’t had too much time with Elise, but your other siblings see my strategy as distasteful.” Iago explained, moving again to repeat the transferring process. They both fell silent when Jakob approached and poured her tea, he left when she commanded him to. Once he was safely out of earshot she continued. 

“It appeared that way the last time Xander came here.”

“Really now?” Iago curiously droned, wiping his hands on another cotton square with a neutral, listening expression. Guessing that he would analyse everything she said, she continued in a wary manner.

“Xander and Leo saw the board games in progress and remarked on your tactics, things headed south when I defended you.” Teresa tried to casually remark, brushing off some of the guilt of turning her fight to more personal grounds. She still owed Xander that apology, but he had not recently visited. 

“You stood in to defend me.” Iago sighed, the way he delivered the line was odd, it was a statement but he pitched it like it might be a question he knew the answer to. If he did, she wondered what precisely that answer might be. 

“I did. I don’t regret it either. I feel like you’ve been selfless towards me so defending you was the least I could do.” She quickly explained, lowering her hand from the Faceless so that she could lean closer toward him. Some of the retained warmth in her gut grew stronger and spread to the bottom of her lungs.

“You’re too kind, really.” Iago whispered, looking away very briefly. “Why irk your bothers that way?”

“Well, you’ve given me so much of your time and dedication.” Teresa slowly began, grappling not to speak quickly like she did when she was invested in a subject or praising a person. “You’ve never lost your composure and understand my frustrations with casting, and you opened a new world to me that I love in strategy.”

She paused for a moment. It seemed odd now to confess that she regarded them as friends when it appeared that he did not trust her like she did onto him. Regardless of what Iago thought, her mouth let slip her belief. “I guess that I consider you my friend, actually.”

“Very high praises.” Iago murmured, leaning slightly closer and respectfully bowing his head. She waited for him to say something but he seemed a little taken aback.

“I, ah…” She began, nervously pawing at the armrest with her free hand. “The idea of having somebody to train for spurs me on to do better. It might sound silly, but having a friend command me is more palpable than people I can’t relate to or trust in …”

Now she trailed off and glanced away toward the floor, feeling awkward and uncomfortable, even a little disheartened that he may not see her in a similar, mutual light. Like always, Teresa was not unenthusiastic for long, a new fire quickly ignited within her; perhaps she would have to win his trust. 

“You are much kinder than Xander.” Iago finally broke the silence, it sounded somewhat relieved. “I am touched that you would come to my defence against your own kin and that you consider me in such close regard.”

“Does Xander really make your life so difficult?” Teresa nervously chuckled, bringing her gaze back to his. His relief became hers as she saw the friendly, reassured gleam in his eye. It lured her into comforting warmth that he possibly shared in that instant. 

“We have a mutual respect, politically, but his loyalty to civil battle codes makes him see me as …” His breath fell away whilst he glanced down, considering how to continue. “… Perhaps, less of a moral man, more cowardly.”

“I wouldn’t say so.” Teresa puffed and leaned her chin onto the back of her hand, regarding him. “You’ve done what needs to be done to ensure victory for a noble cause, I feel like that’s justifiable. If anything I think that your abilities to coordinate such large scale, hectic battles should be commended.” 

“High praises once more.” He meekly smiled with pursed lips.

“Maybe if Xander walked in your stead for a while he might understand your means can sometimes be better.” Teresa remarked with a playful grin, it froze as she registered Iago’s face change from sheepish relief to held captivate by a domineering idea. The violent shift in expression and all encompassing joy of the idea he had been blessed with tickled her intrigue. As another second slipped by she began to tap her fingers for his attention, he looked up and scoffed with embarrassment. The kind that made her think the he felt foolish for not coming up with the idea sooner.

“Has anyone ever tried that with you?” He swiftly asked, changing the subject as abruptly as he had altered facial expression. Teresa felt a little rebuffed by that, but she answered anyway.

“What? Tried switching bodies? Ha!” She lightly laughed and brushed away some moisture from her eyes. Many comical stories of people switching bodies swamped her imagination. 

“If we switched bodies, I might be able to better understand your problems with the magic arts.” Iago stated; cautious curiosity now completely marred Teresa’s face. 

“Now that would be an interesting experience.” Teresa purred.

“You would like to try?”

Teresa nodded, taking a sip of his tea. “At this rate I’d be willing to try almost anything to get this rank done.”

“After this you should get some proper rest, but tomorrow morning we could try the switch.” Iago stated, transferring her blood again. The larger of the bottles was now almost full and the bottom of her stomach was beginning to feel woozy. 

“Really?” Teresa queried, placing the cup down, her free hand lazily lingered to her lap.

“If you’re feeling up to it, then yes.” Iago smiled, finishing the last of his tea, he was quick to begin pouring another cup. 

A loud chuckle slipped from her lips, entirely enraptured by the idea of closing her eyes and waking up in another person’s body. All of the stories about body exchange trifled with her thoughts about what might happen the next morning. 

Romanticised images of humorous scenarios slipped away whilst the dangerous tales crawled into their place, they began to unsettle here a little bit. Iago’s raised eyebrow and a dissecting smirk regarded her as he slowly sipped his brew; she calmed herself down enough to explain that she had been laughing at the stories about such exchanges before remembering some of the sadder, more hazardous ones.

He sighed and stared into her eyes, perhaps reading the slight tense worry in her muscles. “There is no need to fret, I’m well versed with such exchange. I’ve done it many times.” 

“Are you going to write father tonight and ask his permission?” She queried.

“Yes.” Iago confirmed. “He would be more than angered if I didn’t.”

“What if he says no? You know how protective of me he can be.”

“I don’t suppose that he will object, this is a field I excel in. That and he trusts my judgement, or so he makes me believe.”

She bit her lip and glanced away, trying to suppress the stories of people who had gotten permanently stuck in the other’s body, or worse, did not make it to their partner’s fleshy form at all. Living ghosts. 

“For one as fearless as you, I wasn’t expecting you to get so anxious about this. Where did your uncanny sense of adventure go?” Iago observed, leaning a little closer over the table. Teresa raised her spare hand to the edge, tapping the wood with her fingers. 

“I guess that it got mellowed amongst those bad stories.” She meekly confessed. 

“If you don’t feel that it’s safe to do it, then we don’t have to. It was merely a suggestion.” He briefly surveyed the gardens, a soft light warming his russet eye. By the orange torchlight it had turned a colour close to red. 

Teresa paused for a second and looked down to her lap, inklings of trust told her that everything would be ok, but the vile images of what could go wrong made her cautious. “Do you promise nothing bad will happen?”

She heard a long sigh slip from his lips. He leant over to place his hand on hers; the touch compelled her heart to beat heavier and a tightness to clench her gut and throat. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I promise.”

He whispered it and squeezed her hand before retracting it over the table. Slowly, she let herself be won over by the sweet promise of trust rather than the whispers of what might go wrong. When she looked into his eye she felt content to put herself in his hands, what he had promised she could whole-heartedly believe.

Maybe some worry still seemed apparent to him, as he began to tell her of some of the more laughable exchanges he had witnessed, gradually earning more and more of her amusement, guiding her away from a threat that she was convinced he would never let take her.

When he was done telling such laughable tales Iago beamed and leaned forward, beginning to transfer her blood once more. Her smile grew a little when she saw such a light-hearted expression on his face, it was a look she had scarcely seen him blessed with. It made him appear vibrant and its warmth seemed contagious. Within her chest the mellow heat was re-birthed and seeped back down to her gut. 

With this new expression, revelling in a happy memory, he looked almost peaceful and very contented. To her it appeared like he had been transported back to a happy time when he did not have preparations for a large-scale war or kingdom management to worry about, but she knew better than to ask the secretive man too much about his past. A memory that looked so intimate would definitely be something that he would keep to himself.

Her eyes drifted to his neatly groomed hair and its pleasant colouring, the way it strangely clashed yet complimented his pallid skin. She admired how it was warmed by the smile, the gleam in his eye and the radiant torchlight. Her perusing gaze lingered down to the sharp angle of his chin, the long cords of hair that tumbled past it, even the light muscle in his shoulders. 

When he caught her staring he cocked his head to the side. 

“I’ll have to add grinning like a fool to your list of side-effects to blood loss.” Iago teasingly remarked, shifting to begin packing the filled bottles and implements back into the saddlebag. Teresa shook her head, she did feel both light and loose of mind, enough to feel a little giddy, but her smile had been for a different reason.

“Nope.” She sighed and reached to the Faceless again, it purred when her nails scrapped along its flesh. 

“What then?” He pressed, raising the festal and holding her palm open. A light shone from the glassy mirror crowning the proud item, quickly matched by the glimmering ribbons dancing above her hand. Some brief stinging cursed that light but soon succumbed to it once her parted flesh began to knit back together, keenly licking it like cats lapped up cream. 

“I was just thinking about something else.” Teresa dismissed whilst the cut disappeared, as if it had never been. Satisfied with his work, Iago packed the festal away and rose from his seat, returning the Faceless to whence it came.

He did not push her further. 


End file.
